


Renewal

by Neocolai



Series: Never Alone [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, h/c, variety pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neocolai/pseuds/Neocolai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of oneshots taking place after the events of "Never Alone". Some fluff, some hurt/comfort, some humor, lots of family moments. No slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 - Three weeks after  _Never Alone._

* * *

_Mission Objective: Retrieve Ezra's Lightsaber_

_Conducted by: Captain Hera_

_Overlooked by: Exasperated Kanan_

_Manned by: Imperious Zeb (and sidekick Sabine)_

_Kept Ignorant from: Oblivious Ezra_

_Thanks to: Vexing Chopper_

_Status: Arrived at Target's Location_

* * *

"Spectre Two to Spectre Five: are you in position?"

"This is Spectre Five. I'm ready to go."

" _Hera, what are you doing?"_

Hera groaned and slapped her forehead. "Kanan, would you turn down the volume? … You're not even supposed to be on the same channel," she mumbled.

" _Where is the Phantom?"_

"Uh, not attached to the Ghost?" Sabine said chirpily.

" _Get back over here right now."_

"No can do." Hera waved to Zeb before slipping into the abandoned base. Karabast, it was hot in here.

" _Didn't we talk about communicating? What, you couldn't even tell me you were taking the ship?"_

"We'll let you know when we're ready for pickup," Hera assured him.

" _I don't even know what planet you're on!"_

"That's exactly the point," Sabine said contritely. Hera heard three blaster shots over the com. "Wow, they even keep storm troopers here now."

" _What storm troopers? Where_ _ **are**_ _you?"_

"Nowhere of consequence," Hera said, blasting two more troopers before they could spot Zeb. "Spectre Four, have you sighted the target?"

"If this blasted smog would let up," Zeb grumbled.

" _What smog? Hera?"_

"Nothing!" Hera slid past a droid and calmly sniped it, watching the remains sizzle in the pool below. "Egh, that looks a  _little_  morbid."

" _Hera, you're not talking to me!"_

"Found it!" came Sabine's voice over the com. "It was in a drawer right where they kept him."

" _Kept who? What is going on?"_

"Never mind – we'll explain when we get back. Try not to grind your teeth, love."

" _I'm not – are you on_ _ **Mustafar**_ _?"_

"And, that's the signal," Hera muttered, quickly switching off the com. "Come on, Zeb. Let's get off this ash heap before a  _real_  problem finds us."

"So the lava isn't danger enough?" Zeb griped, flicking embers off his fur.

Sabine jogged towards them, target in hand. "Let's just be glad no one has to come here again."

"I'll be happy if I can get the smell out of my fur!"

"At least you don't have to explain to Ezra why Chopper locked him in the 'fresher all morning."

"Really, Sabine?" Hera flung her head back and sighed. "You owe him more than a lightsaber after this."

"I promise I'll find him another kyber crystal – oh, wait – got one from the hundreds of spares Vader kept below. It's like he's a hoarder of Jedi artifacts or something."

"Well, this is the only one we wanted," Hera said.

Sabine nodded in satisfaction, pulling the red crystal from the compartment and replacing it with a lopsided blue. "Think it'll work?"

"Don't try it," Zeb warned frantically. "I don't aim to lose my head right after a successful mission."

"Zeb's right; back to the Phantom," Hera ordered. "You're both lucky you don't have to explain this to  _Kanan_."

* * *

" _Mustafar?_ Hera, do you have any idea –"

"Shh! Just look how happy he is!" Hera pressed her hand against Kanan's mouth, beaming as she watched Ezra examine his lost saber.

Nostalgically Ezra turned over the handle, fingers remembering the scratches and grooves, the worn trigger, the knob to extend the blade. Hesitating, Ezra set it down.

"Thanks, everyone. I'll have to find a crystal next time we visit the temple."

"Already has one," Sabine said proudly.

Ezra faltered and glanced at Kanan. Taking a shuddering breath, he flicked on the blade. Sheer blue light illuminated his wonder. Waving the lightsaber experimentally, Ezra gushed, "You fixed it!"

"As opposed to…" Kanan muttered to Hera with concern.

"Later, love," she whispered.

"Does that mean training will get interesting again?" Zeb yawned. "I'm getting tired of this 'force' nonsense. All you two do is sit around all day."

Sitting around, yes. Purging the force. Renewing their focus after the ordeal with the dark side. Healing a tainted bond. Kanan looked at Ezra and raised both eyebrows.

_You ready?_

Gripping his saber confidently, Ezra nodded.

"Yeah, Zeb," Kanan announced. "Training is about to get a lot more interesting."


	2. Braid

\- 6 weeks after  _Never Alone_

* * *

" _You are acting like a simple child. I tell you, I am your father."_

" _Your anger is already more powerful than your thoughts for your master."_

" _Yes, release your anger. It will make you stronger."_

" _Use your hate. Let it control you."_

" _You are no longer a Jedi."_

Ezra breathed deeply, pushing down the memories.  _It's not true. I am a Jedi._

" _You agreed to the training and now I am your master."_

"I am a Jedi," Ezra said aloud.

" _I am your father now."_

Concentration fragmented, Ezra laid his head in his arms. Pebbles clattered from behind and he straightened quickly, taking a meditation pose.

"Thought I'd find you here." Kanan eased down, grunting when the movement strained the plexi-cast around his knee. He looked at the peak behind, shading his eyes against the sun. "I suspect we'll have to find a new location soon. Kallus' scouting patrols are getting more desperate. It won't be long before they discover the Lothal Temple."

"I don't want to find another place," Ezra mumbled.

Kanan glanced up in confusion. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"And my –"

"Father's a Lasat," Ezra finished. "I know – I checked Zeb's birth records."

Kanan chuckled. "All right. What's really bothering you? … Is it Vader?"

"Not really." Ezra picked a curious ant off his sleeve.  _Just his voice. My own thoughts. Which side I'm on. No big deal._

"Ezra." He could feel Kanan rolling his eyes. "If Hera can pester me about sleeping meds, I can ask you to talk, right?"

"Fine! Okay! You want to know?"

Kanan's eyes widened marginally, but Ezra couldn't stop himself. "I break things when I'm angry. I wake up every morning thinking I have a red lightsaber, and last night I called Zeb a dirty Lasat because I thought he was dead and I wanted him to stop pretending and leave me alone. You know how I know that? Because Chopper recorded the entire thing. I'm not the Jedi you wanted, Kanan, and I'm never going to be!"

Ezra stuttered, hands falling lax. "I didn't mean it," he mumbled.

"Is that what's worrying you?"

Kanan ruffled Ezra's hair and he ducked away.

"I just don't think I should be your apprentice anymore," Ezra said.

Kanan stiffened. "Is that what you want?"

_No! I'm sorry, I'm trying to be everything you saw in me before this happened. I don't want another master!_

"Maybe it's better," Ezra mumbled.

"Is this because you want someone else to train you, or because you think you're incapable of being a Jedi?"

"I just don't think I should do this anymore," Ezra whispered. "I don't … I don't want to become a Sith."

Kanan posture relaxed. "You're not a Sith, Ezra."

"But I can't control  _anything!_  What if I kill someone someday?"

"If you were capable of that, I wouldn't have sensed you on Mustafar," Kanan said immediately.

Ezra blinked in surprise. "You felt that?"

"I knew I was about to lose you for the third time." Kanan's arm was shaking. He wiped his palms and folded his hands over his knees. "You were ready to sacrifice your own life. I won't ever forget that."

"I didn't want to be Vader's apprentice," Ezra said thickly. ' _D-Dad. Please don't.'_ He swallowed back the memory.

"That's half the battle. Your will means everything." Kanan narrowed his eyes contemplatively, then shifted to face Ezra. "Let me show you something my master gave me the day I became her padawan."

His fingers began moving again, tugging at Ezra's hair. Disconcerted, Ezra tried to look out of the corner of his eyes.

"Ow…." Not good for the vision.

"I'm not even pulling."

"I can't  _see_  what you're doing."

"Then relax. I've got this under control."

Relax. Kanan was in charge. It was good to be a padawan again.

"I didn't mean any of it," Ezra repeated. "I do want you as my master."

"I know." Kanan finished and tugged Ezra's hair one last time. "We're both wavering right now; trying to find our balance; where we stand. It's going to take time.

"This is a padawan braid," he said, and when Ezra reached up he could feel a tiny plait that had been clumsily tied off. "It's the symbol of a Jedi. No matter what happens, Ezra, you belong to force. I've never doubted you."

"You had one of these?" Ezra marveled.

"Well, mine was longer," Kanan said. "In the old days, some of the masters used their own hair as an extension until the padawan's grew out. It sort of connected them."

The two exchanged a dubious glance.

"No," Ezra said, laughing with Kanan. "Zeb's already going to keel when he sees this."

"I never liked that tradition, anyways," Kanan agreed. "Still, the braid is a symbol. It means you belong. No one can take that away."

"Did they take it from you?" Ezra asked softly.

Kanan's eyes grew dark. "That was a long time ago."

The Lothal sun gradually sank, branching the mountain's shadow. Kanan squeezed Ezra's shoulder and the padawan shuffled closer. As the wind brushed his cheek, Ezra thought he heard the Jedi of old.

" _Master and apprentice … unbreakable bonds…."_

He was not alone.


	3. Interference

– 4 weeks after  _Never Alone_

* * *

" _You are failing him."_

" _Leave him to me."_

" _You know it is his destiny."_

" _You cannot take him from his true master."_

" _Your efforts will only impede the inevitable."_

" _The boy belongs to me."_

Kanan twisted his neck, battening down the whispers. Voices – not from the past, but an even darker present – pried through the force while he tried to shunt them out.

"You can't control him, Vader," Kanan whispered, his face contorting as the dark side coiled around him. Abruptly it retreated and he fell forward, sweat dripping from his nose.

"Kanan?" Ezra stood in the doorway, pupils dilated and chest heaving. Swiftly he knelt beside his master. "What happened?"

"Nothing – just a vision," Kanan gasped out.

" _I will have my son, even if Caleb Dume must be eliminated."_

_Get out of my head!_

"It's  _him_ , isn't it?" Ezra guessed. At Kanan's wild-eyed look, he added, "I know. He encroaches my mind, too."

"I won't let him take you away," Kanan said, gritting his teeth as the dark force returned, gouging his mind.

"Kanan! Don't let him do it! Stay focused on  _me!_ "

It was a battle of possession; combat over a boy who suddenly held the balance of light and dark in his hands. Darth Vader contended for right of ownership; Kanan for Ezra's freedom. The balance wavered, hitched, and suddenly Ezra's force poured into Kanan, twin lights merging until Vader pounded on an impenetrable shell, vying for what he could not control.

With a shiver like dissolving glass the darkness vanished. Kanan fell against Ezra, rasping as the last threads oozed from his mind.

"Kanan, it's okay!" Ezra exclaimed. "He's gone. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt me. It's okay. I'm okay. He can't hurt us anymore."

No, not now. Not for a today, a few weeks, maybe months if they were lucky. But he would return. Vader would not call for sudden retreat after he had claimed his own.

Kanan would be ready for him.


	4. How Many Jedi Does It Take....

– 1 month after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Hera was in the middle of a good book when it happened. A good, old-fashioned, Earth system book with ripped pages and a stained cover and a written threat to Chopper that she would use his parts for the hyperdrive if he ever touched it again.

How unfortunate that Earth system literature didn't come with an inbuilt lumen globe.

Just at the peak of her terror, when the waves crested over the doomed seacraft and a monstrous, white maw rose from the deep, the overhead lights fizzled, sparked, and blinked out.

Predictable.

"Kanaaan!"

"I'm in the middle of something."

"I told him to fix that months ago," Hera grumbled. She set the book aside and balanced on the edge of her bunk, reaching for the fuses. "Kanan?"

"Kind of busy!"

"What could possibly be so urgent that you can't spare two minutes?"

"Hera, I told you, I'll be there in a minute!"

"Kanan!"

Stalking from her room, Hera glanced down the hall and tracked Ezra's snorting. She folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "That busy, huh?"

"Concentrating." Kanan stared at the holochess board, eyes shifting lethally between Ezra's pieces and his own.

"Uh-huh. Ezra, if you can spare our fearless leader for a moment, I need his services."

"I'm teaching Ezra to focus."

"And I'm teaching you to be flexible. Lumen globe, Kanan."

"Why can't you use a datapad?"

"Because datapads scroll too fast and I lose half the – why does it matter? Just two minutes, Kanan."

"In a minute,  _Captain Hera_."

"Oh, so that's where this is going." Hera's eyes narrowed.

Kanan scowled at the board. "Yup, that's  _exactly_ where it's going."

"Wait – what's going where?" Ezra looked between them worriedly.

"All right." Hera nodded pertly. "I'll leave you to your game, then."

"I'll be there  _in a minute_."

"Do I have to be stuck in the middle of this?" Ezra shifted to the edge of the seat.

"Yeah, Hera - leave the kid out of it."

"I'm not threatening him. You're the one being a poor example."

"Oh, no – you're not using the kid against me."

"That's funny; I believe you brought Ezra up."

"We really don't have to discuss this, right?" Ezra queasily hopped down. "I'll change the lumen globe, Her- _ah!_ "

Kanan nipped out and grabbed the kid's arm, pushing him back into his seat. "Stay out of it."

"Kanan Jarrus, he was offering to help! Unlike  _someone_  who has been sitting around for the past five hours."

"My knee is in a plexi-cast. If you have an alternative, pray elaborate."

"Take a line from Zeb; use your Jedi powers."

"I'm not using the force to change a lumen globe!"

"It's a perfectly practical alternative!"

"If you let me  _think_  for one minute, I'll get your stupid globe!"

"Kanan, we've been arguing about this for five minutes. You could have been three moves into your game by now."

"I would be if I could just  _focus!"_

"Oh, I'll give you something to focus on, you –"

"Can't you just read out here?" Ezra squeaked. Duo glares turned on him and he slid under the table.

"Kanan, lumen globe," Hera snapped. "Now."

"When I'm done." He sullenly moved his piece.

Ezra peeked over the table, brightened, and used his index finger to punch his next move. Kanan flung up his hands and groaned.

"Great! Just great! I almost had him, too!"

"Now will you fix the lumen globe?" Hera said smoothly.

"Fine! Yes! Now I will fix the lumen globe! Are you happy, Captain?"

Sighing languidly, Hera winked at Ezra and stretched. "Actually, I think I'll read out here. The atmosphere is quite invigorating."

Kanan's eyebrow twitched.

"Don't clench your teeth, love."

* * *

 **Earth**  is included in some Star Wars references, and is occasionally known as "That galaxy far, far away".


	5. Nightmares

\- 1 1/2 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

_Pain crippling his legs, stormtroopers holding him down as his padawan screamed. Darth Vader's lightsaber meticulously grooving down Ezra's spine._

_Excruciation._

_He felt every burning stroke along with his padawan, and he couldn't shield Ezra from the agony._

_The lightsaber crept to Ezra's ears and Kanan –_

Wheezing, Kanan kicked out and rolled from the bunk, blinking away crimson glare.

_A dream! Only a dream! Only …._

He had to know for sure.

Rubbing his face, Kanan crept from the room and tiptoed down the hall. Hera and Sabine were up late, laughing about something in the kitchen. He didn't need their worried glances and lingering whispers.

Quietly Kanan slipped into Ezra's room and approached the bunk. The kid was asleep, one arm dangling, the other suspiciously clutching his pillow.  _What, does he need a stuffed toy?_

Shaking his head, Kanan lifted Ezra's hand to the bunk and hesitated a moment, feeling the pulse. Rapid. Erratic.  _Alive_. Ezra stirred and nuzzled closer to Kanan's hand, breathing deeper. His pulse slowed and his eyelids stopped twitching.

A flash in the corner startled Kanan and he glowered as he saw Zeb cheekily holding up Chopper.

"Oh, come on, Kanan!" Zeb defended himself. "Chopper wanted a holopic of the kid and you got in the way."

Tucking Ezra's hand against his side, Kanan stalked from the bunk, giving the two miscreants his full glare of disapproval. Zeb chortled and Chopper whacked his head, demanding a closer view of Ezra's new position.

"Vulture droids," Kanan muttered.

Hera and Sabine's conversation was quieter as he passed. Lethargy accompanied the ache in his leg. Sprawling onto the bed, Kanan buried his face in the pillow and vowed he would wipe Chopper's memory circuits in the morning.

If he did find a holo-disk with the pictures later that week, and if Chopper and Zeb were smart enough to never speak a word to Ezra, Kanan might slip the disk into his tool belt, close to his lightsaber.

Just as a reminder.

The kid was going to be okay.


	6. Nightmares II - Daymares

– 2 1/2 weeks after  _Never Alone_

* * *

" _Do you remember his screams?"_

Kallus' voice. Cruel. Menacing. Relentless.

" _He cried for you, didn't he? Tell me, Kanan; how did he die? What did he say before his final breath?"_

_Run. He begged me to run._

Just like Master Billaba. Too cunning to feed his own visions into Kanan's head, Darth Vader had pulled on his worst nightmares. Kanan could still hear the false pitch of the hallucination.

" _Kanan, please! Y-can't – gaaah! –J'st run! P-please, run!"_

" _Kanan."_

"Kanan."

Glancing up, Kanan relaxed as he saw Ezra hovering in the doorway. "Did you need something?"

"No, I just…." Ezra glanced sideways, picking at one of the lingering scabs on his face. Kanan cleared his throat and Ezra quickly lowered his hand. "I just wondered if you were okay."

"Was I thinking too loud?" Kanan smiled faintly. He motioned to the side and Ezra pattered in, kneeling across from his master. "You're troubled about something."

"I … is it…? I mean – Vader." Ezra sighed. "I keep hearing him in my head. Kanan… can another person – another force user … instigate a bond?" He shuffled, half-notioned to flee and muddle through his insecurities alone.

"I've never heard of a padawan with two masters," Kanan said. "I'm not even sure that's possible."

"Oh, good!" Ezra exhaled in relief. "That would have been awkward… you and Vader…. Would that even have worked? I mean, you can't even agree on the same teaching – and he would probably say he had to finish your training first and then you'd both start shouting at each other and he'd say you were an idiot – which you're not – but he'd say it and then Hera would have to –"

"Kid, did you take your sleeping meds?"

"Wha – no." Ezra grinned sheepishly. "Um… Sabine says I chatter when I'm nervous – lately, at least. I guess she's right."

"Hm." Now that he noticed, the kid did look like a spooked lepi. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Ezra hesitated, chewed his lip thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Not this time. I'm just glad you're back."

_Nightmares….?_

_Daymares,_  the thought drifted back.

"Well, now's a good time to practice your meditation." Kanan tried to lighten the tone.

Immediately Ezra switched to a cross-legged position and closed his eyes. His knees were still jittering. Kanan waved his hand low, conveying a sense of calm in his padawan. Ezra's eyes flew open.

"What is it?" Kanan asked concernedly.

"Nothing!" Ezra said rapidly. "It's just…. That's what Vader used to do." He shuddered. "I guess I hate that he could actually make me feel… okay with him being my … my real dad."

"He could have been lying," Kanan reminded. "Ezra, your birth certificate is in the Imperial records –"

"And they could have made that up," Ezra interrupted. He blanched. "I didn't mean it."

"You're still afraid of what this could imply," Kanan realized with compassion. "Ezra, I never doubted that your parents were the Bridgers. Even if you were born to a different family, they raised you. They instilled their values."

"Like you did." Ezra crooked a smile and rearranged himself, closing his eyes once more. "So… how long before we start training in the force again?"

"That impatient?"

"Nah, Zeb's just complaining about how boring we are."

"Well, I hate to disappoint a Lasat," Kanan said dryly.  _You all right?_

Uncertainty drifted back, but Ezra tethered to him like a child reaching for his father's hand. His thoughts mimicked Kanan's own.

_Not yet…. but someday._

 


	7. Nightmares III - Training Accident

(References to  _Rise of the Old Masters_ )

– 3 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Lasersword, huh? He could handle this. So it was two pieces that Kanan had to screw together – still a basic piece of equipment. Ezra snatched the lightsaber and brushed his fingers over it before flicking the switch.

There was a gurgle as the blade extended further than he expected.

Aghast, Ezra dropped the lightsaber.

"Kanan…. Kanan?"

He yelled when a hand clamped onto his shoulder. Whirling, Ezra flung out his arm as a black cloak furled against the sun.

"V-Vader."

He stepped back, yelping as his foot caught on Kanan's leg. The clouds whizzed and his head struck the Ghost's hull. Rapidly Ezra shook his head, scrambling back at the sight of his master's blank eyes.

"K-Kanan?"

"Ezra, what were you thinking?" Kanan's ghost appeared behind Darth Vader. "I told you to focus! You just killed somebody!"

"I didn't mean to!" Ezra lurched to his feet, throat closing in. "I didn't know it would extend that far!"

"You always have an excuse," Kanan argued. "You never concentrate, you act without thinking, and now there is no one left to train you. I should have left you with Luminara!"

"Luminara's dead!" Ezra lashed back.

Kanan turned away in disappointment. "Darth Vader will continue your training."

"Vader?" Frantically Ezra retreated. "But you just told me I wasn't a Sith! You said I could become a Jedi!"

"What other choice do I have?" Kanan retorted. "You just killed the only Jedi who was willing to put up with you."

"I…." Recoiling from Kanan's body, Ezra watched helplessly as Darth Vader approached. "I – no! I'd rather leave the force if this is what it means! I'm not a Sith! You're not my master!"

Water struck his face and he spluttered, gagging on the sudsy taste. Suddenly the Ghost's hull vanished and he found himself on the floor by Zeb's bunk.

"Wha….?"

With a sneaky chortle Chopper sprayed soapy water into his eyes.

" _Chopper!"_

"Ugh, is he finally awake?" Zeb moaned. "Can't sleep a wink with all that shouting. I told you we should've locked him in Kanan's room from the start."

"Would you knock it off?" Ezra snapped, pushing Chopper away. He scrubbed his sleeve over his eyes and winced when his head throbbed.  _Did I….?_

"Congratulations; you just fell off the bunk," Zeb grumbled. He snagged Ezra's collar and tossed him out of the room. "Kanan's meditating. Go annoy him for a while. Sabine's trying to sleep, and so am I."

The door locked behind him. Ezra folded his arms and sat back sullenly. "Kanan, can I change roommates?"

"Go to sleep, Ezra!"

Meditating. Pah. More like Kanan was sulking because the Ghost was beating him at holochess. Ezra leaned back and closed his eyes.

Only to spiral over seconds later when the door opened and Chopper skittered down the hall, cackling maniacally. A dripping Zeb tramped close behind.

"When I get my hands on that short-circuited garbage disposal I'm gonna –"

"Ugh, go to sleep!" Sabine yelled.

Twitching a smile, Ezra rubbed the soapy drops from his hair and trundled down the hall.

_Home. Safe. Together._

Maybe Kanan would prefer a live holochess opponent.

 


	8. Nightmares IV - Exchange

\- 4 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

" _Ezra, do you read me? Ezra!"_

_She heard Hera's voice, and somehow she knew it was over._

" _Ezra! Ezra, come in!"_

" _This is Kanan…." His voice was weary._ _Lost._

_Hera inhaled stiffly. "Where is Spectre Six?"_

_"...I'm bringing the kid home."_

_Home. Lothal. Where his parents were._

_Sabine whirled and collapsed behind Hera's chair, covering her head._

_Ezra. That stupid grin. His resolution to find Kanan._

_They had found Kanan._

_The Inquisitor had still demanded his price._

" _Kanan…." Hera's voice was tight. "Where are you?"_

" _Stealing a Tie." No jokes. No relief for his freedom. Weariness. Forfeit._

" _Eh… where's the kid?" Zeb asked, refusing to see the implications._

_No answer, save for Kanan's ragged breathing. Hera slapped a hand over Zeb's mouth._

" _We'll be waiting for you," she said softly._

_How? How could they react so calmly? How could they –_

_Suddenly Sabine was in her room, surrounded with empty paint cans and crude graffiti. The Inquisitor's lightsaber was painted over the door._

" _It's not true!" Sabine screeched, smashing a can against the silver handle. "He's not dead! We got him back!"_

_He was alive! She'd heard his voice._

" _Sabine." Kanan stood in the doorway. Shadow. Translucent. He blinked out._

" _Kanan?" Rushing to the doorway, Sabine frantically searched the hall. "Kanan!"_

_Her feet pounded in time with her heart. Rooms empty. Kitchen abandoned. "Kanan!"_

_She reached the cockpit, where Zeb was lounging in the co-pilot seat and Hera was studying the star charts._

" _Where is he?" Sabine asked hysterically. "Where is Kanan?"_

" _He's dead," Hera said bluntly before returning to the star charts._

" _No – he can't be," Sabine stuttered. "He was returning to the ship – he brought Ezra back! I saw him in the doorway!"_

" _Oh, he's dead all right," Zeb said lethargically. "They both are."_

_Chopper rattled irritably and poked the Lasat._

" _Now see here, you little garbage disposal!"_

_No remorse. No pain. Was she the only one crying?_

"Ezra!" Sabine kicked out and yelped when her knuckles rapped the wall. She scrabbled about frantically, knocking over art scraps and pencils before her fingers closed on a glowrod.

Relief. Calmness as her dark room brightened into a cluttered, death-free haven. Sabine sat back and folded her arms over her knees.

_They're alive. The Inquisitor is gone. Darth Vader is far away. Everyone is fine._

Sabine's eyes fell on the red coloring pencil.

She grabbed a paint can and didn't stop.


	9. Nightmares V - Too Late

\- 4 months after  _Never Alone_ (Directly after "Exchange" oneshot)

(Taken from the  _"We're Even"_  Rebels clip.)

* * *

He knew something was wrong. There was urgency like those dratted feelings Kanan always jabbered about.

But when he saw the blasted kid running, he couldn't help a little dig.

"Zeb?"

Chuckling, Zeb waved. The kid had gotten himself into a mess, all right. Hounded by buckets on a rooftop chase. Poor Loth-rat. If it weren't for the last of Hera's lectures Zeb might almost have left the kid to his own.

Not that he'd been the least bit concerned when Ezra was locked in an Imperial prison. Obviously the brat could look after himself.

Maybe it was a little satisfying to see him panicking for once.

"Zeb!" Ezra screamed, floundering to keep up. "Hey, Zeb! Let me in!"

How could he resist such an opportunity? "So now I'll be saving your life, right?" Zeb gloated.

The kid jumped, faltered, and kept running with those Kanan-like-reflexes. "What? Yeah, sure! Yes! Whatever!" Talking fast, no time for a snide quip. Pity it would only last so long.

"If I let you in, we're even!" Zeb warned. This was too devious, and he basked in every moment.

"Fine!" Ezra yelled desperately.

That wasn't good enough. "You have to say it!"

"All right! All right!" The blaster fire was too close. Ezra's pitch was frantic. "We're even! Now let me –"

Red bolts. Tumble of limbs. Smoke.

Zeb stared in dismay, waiting for the kid to leap up and pound his fists against the Ti hatchway. Waited for the kid to  _do something_.

Waited for a twitch.

"Karabast…." Zeb whispered.

The troopers ran to the crumpled form, blasters leveled. Zeb hollered too late. Flinging his arms over his head, he heard the slug of blaster bolts sinking into a living being. His hands found the controls. Green fire dismembered the murderers.

Swinging around, Zeb searched for the galvanized eyes; the scrawny form; the sullen pout.

The kid was still.

"Karabast… Come on, kid…  _get up_. Move!"

Blood stained the orange jumpsuit.

When Zeb bolted awake, lungs hammering, despair closing up his throat, the dream continued its dysfunctional path. Groaning, Zeb cradled his head in his hands.

_How would I have told Hera?_

* * *

Claing wasn't good enough for the nightmares. They'd almost lost the kid on Mustafar. If not for those blasted Jedi feelings….

"I'm getting too old for this," Zeb muttered. He glazedly stared at the half-full mug left on the table. Hot chocolate. Cold. It was the Loth-rat's favorite, lumpy mug.

"Dratted kid."

Ezra was right where he was supposed to be, of course. Curled in the furthest corner of his bunk, his back to the wall, clutching a lump that looked suspiciously like a stuffed Loth-wolf (which Kanan swore he had never seen before). Any minute now Zeb should do himself a favor and drag the kid to Kanan's room; get some undisturbed rest for once.

It wasn't that he was uneasy – like the kid would be dead the next time he looked in.

"Oh, Karabast," Zeb mumbled, disgustedly peering into his glass. The nightmares were twisting horrors out of past missions. Claing wasn't helping. He needed something stronger.

"Here." A small bottle was plonked in front of Zeb as Sabine passed by, rubbing her shadowed eyes. She yawned excruciatingly and poked a mug until she could muster the energy to find a tin of pepper tea.

"Bad dreams, huh?" Zeb surmised.

"No sleep," Sabine corrected. She rested her chin on her fist, already sliding out.

"At least sit down properly," Zeb grumbled, nodding towards the bench.

"Yup," Sabine mumbled. Dozily she stared at the tea in her mug, as though by command it would be rejuvenated with hot water.

"Aw, Karabast!" Zeb rolled his eyes and plodded forward, snatching away the mug. He filled it from the dispenser and set it at the table before guiding a lurching Mandalorian to the bench. "There's something in your room called a 'bunk'. Might want to make use of it."

"M'not sleepy," Sabine slurred. She dipped forward and exaggeratedly shook her head.

"You  _won't_  sleep, you mean." Fresh paint scent and yellow staining her hair. "Sabine, you're no good when you're dead on your feet."

"I'm fine, I'll work tomorrow…." More swaying.

Zeb casually lifted one finger and tilted the Mandalorian onto her side. Sabine groaned.

"S'it morning yet?"

"Not for a long while." About Lothal dawn, according to the chrono. "What's in the bottle?"

"Tihaar," Sabine droned, eyelids sealing. "Brought some… Mandlr…."

Out.

Zeb leaned back and sighed. Cautiously he sniffed the bottle's contents. Stiff and pungent. Ought to conk out a gundark.

"Mandalorian tihaar, eh?" Worth a good headache come morning, if it would numb the dreams.

He couldn't get the kid's blood out of his head.


	10. Nightmares VI - Don't Leave Me

– 4 months after _Never Alone_

* * *

"Hera!"

He arched, stretching out a quivering hand, Kanan, her Kanan, too weak to pull himself past the blast doors. Hera screamed into the com.

"Spectre Four, I need you here now!"

No answer. Troopers everywhere. She had to make the choice.

Save the ship, or save Kanan.

She couldn't lose him again.

"Chopper, ready the Ghost for takeoff!" Swiveling her blaster into hand, Hera darted from the cockpit and raced down the hall, jumping the ramp. One bucket shot. Two. Three. She dodged red bolts, sliding to her knees. Four troopers. Five. Chopper was blasting those behind her. Hera whirled to the doors.

"Kanan!"

He strained to one elbow, face white. "Hera…" He choked, dark fluid spilling from his mouth.

 _No, no, no…!_  He'd only just recovered from internal bruising. "Spectre Four, get back to the Ghost  _now_!"

Recklessly Hera plowed through the crossfire, her eyes on Kanan; the lethargy in his eyes, the sheen of moisture on his brow, the feebleness in his hands as he crawled for freedom.  _Hold on, Kanan! We're not losing you again._

The blast doors shifted. Screaming, Hera lunged past the final fire line.

Grey doors slammed in her face.

"Kanan!"

Yelling between her teeth, Hera flung herself at the durasteel barricade. Punching. Kicking. Blasting the cruel steel, ignorant of the bolts ricocheting around her.

"Hera, stop!" Zeb's hands clamped her shoulders, dragging her away.

"Garazeb Orrelios, put me down!"

"It's too late for him!"

"I am not leaving Kanan alone a third time!  _Let go!"_

"Hera." Zeb's eyes were gentle. "Hera."

" _Hera!"_  Her fist struck something solid.

_"Force! - Hera!"_

Scrabbling frantically, Hera pushed Zeb's arms away. Fur melted into cloth and flapping ears shrank into two normal, large ears fit to pass off as humanoid.

"Hera!" Kanan's voice. Worried blue-green eyes. Bruising cheekbone from a wayward fist.

_Kanan?_

The blurry form cleared.

"Oh, Karabast!" Gasping a sob, Hera flung herself against him. Strong. Unyielding. Warm.

Safe. Back on the Ghost, where he should be.

No words were needed. Kanan held her, firm hands rubbing her back, even breaths tearing away her nightmares. Solid. Alive.

"Is she okay?" Ezra whispered from the doorway. He gripped the frame tightly, shoulders tense with alarm. Hera wiped her eyes hurriedly and mustered a smile.

"Did I interrupt your holochess?"

"Nah. The Ghost's walls are a little thin." Kanan's eyes were murky.  _You were terrified._

Hera clasped his hand and shrugged.  _Only a dream._

His fingers wove around hers and squeezed.  _I'm here._

"I know," Hera whispered. She smiled for Ezra, and Kanan's hand concealed her tremors. "Aren't you both up late?"

"Zeb was screaming at Chopper for squashing his space waffles or something," Ezra said. "I gave up trying to sleep. Kanan was already awake, so we started practicing our force techniques."

"So help me, Loth-rat," Zeb shouted from down the hall, "If you ever fling me into a wall again I'm going to feed you to a sarlacc!"

Ezra cringed. "I may have focused a little too hard…."

"See about fixing that dent," Kanan ordered. He raised one eyebrow and Ezra glanced between them, slid backwards, and scurried.

"Are you all right?" Kanan asked as soon as the door closed. His grip was soothing, his presence fortifying.

Hera leaned against his chest. "Just hold me."

She closed her eyes, listening to him breathe.  _Don't ever do that to me again._

Kanan rested his chin on her head, one hand lightly caressing her lekku. Hera didn't need to imagine his thoughts.

No matter what happened to him, Kanan would never leave her alone.


	11. Special Occasions

Kanan has a special day, and Ezra learns something new about his master.

\- 5 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Kanan tried to ignore it. Hera discovered by accident. Chopper hacked into the security records. Zeb was clueless. Sabine just knew.

"Wh- _at_  are we doing?" Ezra swerved as another large bowl was tossed onto the growing stack in his arms.

"I'm making uj'alayi." Sabine rummaged at the very back of the cupboard, pulling out … did they even have that many spices on the Ghost?

"Uja-what?" Ezra craned his neck, trying to lick the side of the bowl and uphold the wobbling tower at the same time.

"Uj cake. It's a specialty on Mandalore."

Ezra sniped a dollop of batter and spat in disgust. "It's completely syrup!"

"Never said we liked salt." She was humming. Sabine was  _humming_.

"If you enjoy cooking this much, then why do we have to suffer with nutrient bars?"

"Because Kanan pretends it tastes better whenever Hera cooks. I think it's sweet of him."

"Uh-uh. Kanan does not do 'sweet'."

"Jealous, Ezra?" Sabine smirked. "You're like a kid who doesn't want his parents getting together."

"Wha – Hera isn't my mom!" Ezra ducked behind the bowls, hoping she didn't see his blush.

"Whatever you say. Here, catch!"

A dripping spoon clattered into the top bowl. Ezra tipped sideways, yelping as the tower careened towards the clean floor. "Sabiiiiine!"

Invisible hands netted the catastrophe last minute. Ambling inside, Kanan swept the bowls into the sink and snagged a fingerful of batter as he passed. His eyes widened at the taste.

"Uj'alayi?"

"Just like every year." Sabine smiled.

Ezra pouted on the floor. "So am I the only one who doesn't know about –"

"Is that uj cake?" Zeb called from the doorway. He curled his nose, fur bristling. "Ugh. I'll be in the engine room with Chopper tonight. Beastly stuff…."

"Does it taste better after it's cooked?" Ezra asked hopefully.

Kanan froze, batter slicked finger halfway to his mouth. If Ezra didn't know better (because he did – no one could eat that guck), it looked as though Kanan was intent on cleaning the entire bowl.

"It doesn't taste better now?" Kanan said with a bewildered, 'someone-stepped-on-my-Loth-kit's-tail' expression.

"You actually  _like_  that stuff?"

Slowly grinning, Kanan licked his finger and grabbed the spoon, slathering up a larger portion. Sabine laughed.

"Looks like it's just the three of us again."

"And I was worried he'd eat the whole thing." Kanan seemed to be in danger of finishing the bowl scrapings and moving on to the cake pan itself. Faster than Jedi reflexes, Sabine batted his hands away and slid the pan into the gasser. Kanan looked wounded.

"I only see it once a year…."

"Because Zeb threatens to revolt if I bake it at any other time. Besides, that's what makes it special."

"But it's special all the time!"

Rebuffed, Kanan slumped and finished scraping the syrup off an unsuspecting bowl. He stared at the chrono and sighed miserably.

"Kanan, if you can't wait two hours, just go complain to Hera."

He continued to mope.

Emboldened, Ezra approached the sink and tried some of the batter that had yet to be assaulted. Immediately he gagged. "How? How can you enjoy that?"

"Keep your hands off the uj'alayi," Kanan growled. Was that a threat? Was Kanan Jarrus, great Jedi Master, actually  _threatening_  his padawan?

Daring Kanan to react, Ezra slicked off another fingerful. He choked and grabbed for the faucet, rinsing his mouth under the running water.

"Ugh! I can't believe you –  _bleh!_ "

"Not every aprentice follows in the ways of his master," Kanan said smugly.

"So why are we eating this –"

" _Not a word,"_  Kanan said before Ezra could finish the insult.

"Be-cause, it's the only day of the year when we get to do something this special," Sabine said. "One hour fifty-five minutes, Kanan. Out of my kitchen."

Sighing, Kanan trudged away and flung himself onto the bench in the main hull. Ezra snorted and took a seat across from him.

"So… special day, huh?"

"It's the one day Sabine makes uj cake," Kanan muttered.

"Guess we have a while to wait, then." Ezra casually activated the holochess. "Winner gets first slice?"

"Kid, I get the  _entire_  cake," Kanan said, directing his first move. "You'll be lucky if I leave you the crumbs."

 


	12. Conspiracy

– 3 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

It wasn't unlike Vader to dispose of stalwart rebels. The Inquisitor would have persisted until Kanan's padawan was a crumpled shell, too broken and fearful to stammer his own name. Vader tended to choke first and wonder why corpses failed to reveal the desired information.

Strange that he had never delivered Skywalker's body to the Emperor.

"Disintegrated on Mustafar?" Kallus scoffed as he swigged his bitter caf. After the efforts Vader had made to capture the boy; flog his spirit; seemingly obliterate his charming family; how odd that he would waste such potential in a lava pit.

His report on Ezra Skywalker's demise was flawless.

Clear indication of a defect.

"What are you missing?" Kallus wondered. He stroked his chin, pushing aside the supply list he was supposed to be maintaining. Commanders were never intended to snoop in the affairs of Dark Lords.

Once Kallus had been an inquisitor.

It was his duty to meddle.

"T9, what was the waste disposal report on Mustafar for the week of Skywalker's training?"

"Twenty tons scrap metal from a shield leak, forty pounds combined food and human waste, one-hundred pounds droid scraps, three tons ash deposit…."

"Wait – what kind of droids?" Kallus interrupted.

"Model IG-100, sir."

"How were they destroyed? Lightsaber scores? Scan the readings."

"Scanning droid remains…" the droid intoned. "Scanners indicate blaster bolts from a class AB-75 bo-rifle. This weapon is a –"

"I knew it!" Kallus slammed his fist on the table, sloshing caf onto his gloves. A bo-rifle. Just like the filthy Lasat's. Jabbing his index finger at the droid, he commanded, "Send a transmission to the Emperor. 'Ezra Skywalker is allegedly within rebel hands. Request permission to begin a search immediately.'"

"Sir, as a commander you are not authorized to –"

"Override protocol! Unless you want the Emperor to melt you into spare bolts for the 'freshers."

"Sending now."

Kallus leaned back in satisfaction and sipped his caf. "I knew you would never give up on the boy."

Soon Darth Vader would have a rival hunter. And Kallus was equally zealous to claim the prize.


	13. Dazzled

1 month after  _Never Alone_

* * *

All was quiet on the Ghost.

Kanan sat at the holochess table, plexi-casted knee stretched out, datapad in one hand, sapir tea at his fingertips. One more report for the Fulcrum. Statistics on the frudal farms, status reports, Ezra's progress in the last couple weeks, whether there were any signs of 'dark wavelengths' in the force when he was training, if Kanan remembered anything more of the interrogation that might be important.

Luckily, it was down to him and Hera tonight. Chopper was recharging down below, Zeb was in the same room tinkering with something that was probably illegal, Sabine had hunkered down early, and if the sleeping meds were working, Ezra had been asleep for two hours.

"Kanan?"

Nope. Meds hadn't kicked in yet.

Ezra leaned over Kanan's chair, looking more like a grumpy mouse than a padawan. "I'm trying to figure out what kind of fruit you are."

Oh, they'd kicked in all right.

"Kid, this is your one and only chance. Go to bed."

"Uh-uh. Not sleepy."

He would be merciful. "Last call."

"Are you a banana?"

Grace period was over. Kanan pulled out the recorder and switched it on, setting it in the middle of the holochess table. "You're asking if I'm a banana."

"Yeah, cause you're green and long. Does that make you a Kanana?"

Sighing, Kanan wondered if it was worth the frazzled brain cells. "No, it does not."

"Cause then Zeb could be a Zebinini. Or a Garapple. Or a Garazini. Hey, do those come in purple?"

Kanan carefully scrolled down to the next paragraph. "I have never seen a purple Garazini."

"Oh. Maybe he's an Zegplant." Ezra slumped over the back of Kanan's chair. Quietly Kanan shifted to the side.

"Okay, fruitmaster," Kanan said, more for conversation and  _not_  for the sake of future blackmail. "What does that make Sabine?"

"Strawberry," Ezra said dreamily.

"Strabini?" Kanan guessed.

"No, strawberry. Cause she smells like one."

Kanan raised one eyebrow and inched further away. "And you would know because…."

"Kanan, I love her." Ezra flung himself over the back of the chair, and Kanan congratulated himself for taking the free space while it was available.

"Huh. Well, when I was a kid your age, attachment among the Jedi was forbidden."

"But you love Heraaa," Ezra sang.

Nope. Not happening. His ears were not burning. The kid was just drugged. "I never insinuated anything of the kind. I admire her as a fine captain."

"Hera!" Ezra shouted, spiraling his master into a spastic fit. "Kanan says he doesn't love you!"

"Ezra, go to bed! Now!" Kanan hissed.

"What's this I hear?" Hera strolled from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. She winked at Kanan and passed him a fresh sapir.

"Kanan says he doesn't love you," Ezra said sulkily.

"Is that so?" Hera grinned mischievously, and Kanan was certainly not throwing a sullen fit as he folded his arms and looked away. "Why would he say that, Ezra?"

"Cause I said Sabine's a strawberry and he thinks Jedi shouldn't fall in love."

"It's the meds," Kanan mouthed.

"Oh, sweetie…" Hera shook her head and handed her tea to Ezra. "Don't you think you should go to bed?"

"Uh-uh. Not tired." Ezra sipped cautiously at the tea and his eyes widened at the honeyed taste. "This's good."

"We have reports," Kanan reminded Hera.

"Aw, let him sit with us for a while." She cajoled. "We have time."

Immediately Ezra snuggled against her side. "Wanna stay, Mom."

Kanan froze with his tea halfway to his mouth. Hera shushed softly and put her arm around Ezra's shoulders.

"That's fine, sweetheart, but why don't you ask daddy first?"

That tea  _really_  didn't go down right.

"Dad, can I stay?"

Those puppy eyes could rival Hera's. Dumfounded, Kanan silently begged her for help.

"Well, can he?" Hera's eyes twinkled, and Kanan  _knew_  she had plotted everything.

"I … shouldn't we…."

Ezra blinked sleepily. How could he ever deny that trusting expression?

"Fine," Kanan mumbled. "Just for a few minutes."

Ezra grinned and wriggled closer to Hera, closing his eyes. The Twi'lek smoothed his hair back and subtly retrieved her tea. She sipped cautiously and made a face.

"Too sweet – this one's yours."

Kanan traded eagerly. "Thought it was missing something. I'm surprised the kid drank it."

"Hm, Chopper says he likes sugar when he's out of it. You know, he said the other day that you were all vegetables and Chopper should blend you into a smoothie."

"Uye." Kanan rubbed a hand over his face. "What kind of vegetable were you?" He wasn't going to say the Lekku resembled snap peas.

"Oh, I'm not a vegetable," Hera said primly. "I'm Hera."

Kanan stared at her. "So Zeb's a Garapple and I'm a Kanana, but you're just plain Hera?"

Hera smiled. "Well, when he's really out of it I get to be 'Mom'."

Kanan snorted softly and shook his head. "If you're sentimental, then I'm turning into a gushy mynock."

He faltered. "Why 'Dad'?"

Shrugging lightly, Hera resumed brushing Ezra's hair. "He told me he missed having one."

Slowly Kanan swallowed. He felt like he was taking advantage of the kid's fogged mind. At the same time…. Kanan saved the recording and slipped it into his pocket. He'd find another way to blackmail his padawan.

Maybe these 'family moments' of Hera's were a good idea after the last couple months.

Maybe what the kid needed right now was a dad.

Kanan knew who wanted the security more.

* * *

**Thank you to all the great Dads in the Earth System, whether here or in the Force.**

Happy Father's Day


	14. Affirmation

6 months after _Never Alone_

* * *

Times were changing. Security was grueling. AT-STs marched through every side street. Bucket teams were doubled. The Ghost's serial number was routed through every port and space station.

No one went undercover alone.

The cantina Zeb and Ezra stopped at was sleazy enough. One droid with sparking circuits, a Bith, a Lutrillian, two Twi'lek ladies of the night, a few Lothal natives, and a Nagai maintained the rowdy atmosphere. Noisy, bothersome, and safe – no Imperialists would look for them here.

"Eyes on the counter," Zeb growled when the kid shifted a little too much in the direction of the night dancers. "Karabast, I told Kanan not to send a twit here."

"I'm fifteen!"

"Too young for what they're offering. Here." Zeb plonked a juma juice in front of the kid (after sniffing it first just to make sure it wasn't kicked...). "Focus your little mind skills on the drink and let me handle the contact."

Ezra's eyes shifted to the right and Zeb slapped him over the head. "What did I just tell you?"

"Ow! Seriously, Zeb?"

"I'm not telling Hera that you went and…." Zeb stared at the innocent, blinking eyes. Karabast, was the idiot that naïve? "Never mind."

"Why can't I have a drink?" Ezra plopped his cheek on his fist. "I've gotten drunk before, Zeb. I know when to stop."

"Cause I'm not telling Hera why I had to carry you back to the Ghost. Now shut up and drink."

Ezra curled his nose and shoved the juma juice back. "You drink it."

Before Zeb could flinch the kid had switched drinks and taken a swig of Zeb's claing.

"Why you –!"

"Excuse me, but are you Ezra Bridger?"

Zeb froze with his hand stretched over Ezra's scalp. "Eh… he's just an ordinary Loth-rat."

Ezra grumpily shoved him off.

The Rodian watched them serenely. "I was instructed to give this to an Ezra Bridger. You match his description. Please accept this gift." He placed a pyramidal gadget in Ezra's hands and turned away.

"Wait a second," Zeb growled, grabbing the Rodian's shoulder. "Who are you?"

"Merely the arbitrator," the Rodian said breezily. "Please excuse me."

"Not until I'm done –"

"Zeb – Zeb!" Ezra hissed, urgently tugging the Lasat's sleeve. "We need to go.  _Now_."

One look at the kid's frantic eyes, and Zeb shouldered the Rodian aside. "I see you around here again and I'm pulling your antenna."

"Just go!" Ezra pleaded, prodding him towards the entrance.

Zeb waited until they cleared the next alley before yanking the kid aside. "What was that about?"

"Vader." Ezra's whisper was tight and pitched. "It's Vader. He sent him."

The air suddenly felt heavier on Zeb's shoulders. "You're sure, kid?"

"I – I know." He was shaking. "I felt it."

"Karabast, let's get out of here." One more rendezvous point compromised. Soon all of Lothal would be watching for them.

The kid was quiet all the way back to the Ghost.

By the time Hera took off, Zeb had forgotten all about the pyramid.

If he had known, he would have smashed it before they left the cantina.

* * *

"Where's Ezra?"

The jump to hyperspace had taken place hours ago, and Kanan hadn't heard a single gripe. Something was up.

Zeb shrugged, engrossed in the holochess set. "Haven't seen him. Karabast!"

Chopper rattled exuberantly as he demolished another of Zeb's pieces. The Lasat growled low in his throat.

"Did you try the canons?" Sabine asked without glancing up from her datapad.

"He's not in the turrents, and he's not in his room," Kanan said.

"Cargo hold," Zeb suggested. "Caught him hiding behind the crates once."

"Naturally – the last place I'd look." Flinging up his hands, Kanan tramped to cargo hold. He entered the dark room cautiously, mindful of the last time he had startled Ezra and nearly lost an ear when the kid's saber flicked. "Ezra?"

Harsh breathing. Hitching, wet gasps. Something was worse than wrong. "Ezra!"

Kanan ran to the maelstrom of emotion bundled into the furthest corner. Oblivious to his approach, Ezra continued to watch the dissected pyramid in his hands. Kanan buckled at the wave of dark energy.  _Holocron!_

"Ezra, stop!" he gasped, holding his stomach. Then he saw the images playing.

Himself. Writhing as the droid injected a nerve-firing serum. Kanan gripped his arm at the memory. Was that really how he had sounded when –

Stop.

"Ezra, put it down," Kanan said tensely, reaching for the holocron. Tortured blue eyes lashed up and Ezra cringed away.

"I'm sorry! I didn't – I begged him not to! I told him –"

" _Ezra_."

Kanan knelt and cupped his hands over the holocron, buckling the contraption once more. The darkness faded, lingering in Ezra's hands. "Ezra, put it down."

Gasping, Ezra tumbled the pyramid into Kanan's hands. "He … he told me that I – if I continued to rebel – he'd make me watch – watch you all –"

"Ezra." Kanan put the holocron behind them and brushed the kid's hair back. "Vader won't find the crew. We look out for each other."

"But if he captures you again he'll – he'll make me – I can't – I can't do it, Kanan! I can't let him hurt you again!"

"Ez –"

"He already found us in the cantina! He knew we would be there! I can't keep running like this, Kanan! What if he does find the Ghost? What if he tortures Sabine or Hera or –"

"Ezra, calm down!" Kanan pressed his forehead against his padawan's, pushing every memory of sanctuary and tranquility into his thoughts.

"I can't!" Ezra cried out. The crates around them rattled.

"Enough, Ezra. You're letting your emotions get out control."

The nearest crate shattered as Ezra whipped free.  _"I won't let him kill you!"_

More supplies spilled. Desperate, Kanan grabbed Ezra's shoulders and shook him until his teeth clacked. "Ezra, stop this now!"

Dazed, Ezra stared at him. Calmness settled and his eyes welled up in devastation. Kanan gripped his shoulders, willing his own fear into his padawan. "Don't do this to me, Ezra. I can't lose you."

_Lose you to Vader. Lose you to Mustafar. Lose everything you've become._

"K-Kanan?" The franticness left Ezra's eyes and he cradled his head in his hands. "I'm sorry! I didn't – I'm so sorry!"

"Sh. Cm'ere, kid." Kanan closed his eyes and drew his padawan close, blocking out the sight of ruined crates, the holocron, the overhead lights that were blackened and charred. "I'm not going to let you fall."

Because if he couldn't hold the kid together, they were all lost.


	15. Picture Frames

– 4 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Sabine drew her family. Kanan and Hera in the Ghost. Chopper evoking Zeb's temper. Herself, during the happier times. Ezra's stupid moments. (He was adorable – really.) The memories always made her smile.

Maybe that's why she devoted herself to her art journals. Happiness was harder to come by.

Ezra was sporadic nowadays. Laughing too hard one moment, still and withdrawn the next. Trying to be normal.

Zeb argued less. Puttered around the deck. Checked on them often.

Kanan was overbearing. Cautious. Reserved.

Hera fretted over her Jedi. Brow pinched in concern. No time for tea and light-hearted chats.

Really, Chopper was the only crew member who was acting normal.

Charcoal scritched over parchment as Sabine tried to remember Kanan's swagger. There had been a slump in his tread ever since the Inquisitor…

Dissatisfied, Sabine erased the lines and traced again. Crook in the leg. Dipped shoulder. He looked scared.

Sabine growled, scribbling until her pencil snapped. She flung the pieces against the wall and snatched a random color. Blue slid onto the page, vaguely outlining Ezra's hair. Bowed head. Eyes shuttered.

Something was missing.

Chestnut ponytail. Broad shoulders. Inner strength.

Bent knees. Tenacious grip. Flinch of terror waning into surety. Devotion. Trust.

She started scribbling around the two, yellow and white and tints of green amplifying until the Jedi were enfolded with light.

Binding one another.

Fortitude. Courage. Hope.

Whole.

It was the scene from the aft turret after Ezra's rescue, when he first realized he was safe.

Reunion.

Life.

Master and Padawan.

Sabine smiled.


	16. Allergies

10 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Besides the dooming qualities of force-inhibiting smoke, frudal flowers had one obnoxious trait.

_*Kerchoo! Kerchoo!*_

"Gah! Sabine, watch yourself!" Zeb ducked away from the Mandalorian, brushing imaginary germs from his arm.

"I can't -  _*kerchoo*_  - stop it!"

"Heraa!" Zeb yowled.

"Busy here!" Hera shouted back. "One of those bucketheads was carrying frudal darts. Give me a minute to calm Ezra down."

Zeb clapped his temple. "You got the kid shot again? Kanan, he was on your watch!"

" _Kanan_  is unconscious. Lucky for you two I was keeping an eye on the ground personnel."

"Great." Eyes watering, Sabine sniffed and patted Zeb's shoulder. "You're buth-ted."

Zeb's ears twisted lopsidedly. "I thought Kanan said this was an easy op. How is it that every time we run into an Imperial camp, it's the Jedi who flops? No wonder the old religion died."

"The Imperialists  _happen_  to be better prepared, Zeb," Hera called. "Or have you failed to notice our descriptions are all over Lothal now?"

"Yeah, about that…." Zeb looked down the hall to where Sabine was sneezing pugnaciously. "Maybe we should find another planet. I know it's the Loth-kit's home, but some humanoids seem to be averse to the flora."

"Tell me about it," Hera drawled. "Would you do me a favor and fetch some stim-caf? I don't know what they hit Kanan with, but he's going to have a murderous headache when he wakes and I'd rather he not dismember Chopper."

"They're Jedi; they shouldn't be this easy to cripple." Shaking his head, Zeb slogged to the kitchen. "Fetch the stim-caf, Zeb, while I rescue the Jedi. Why do I work here?"

A muffled sneeze drew his attention to the wretched puddle of Mandalorian in the corner. Sabine was hunched over the counter, spice tea steaming under her coppery nose.

"Allergies, huh?" Zeb said nonchalantly as he scooped up a thermajug.

"Dere's neber a problem ad 'ome," Sabine said nasally. "I god a reaction ad dah academy thometimes. Dey had thtim thots."

Zeb paused to translate. "Stim shots help?"

Sabine nodded and inhaled more steam. "Med kid's empdy. Thtupid Ezra used 'em on Kanan afder the lastht misthion cause his knee gave out, and we didn't hab a chanthe to rethtock."

"Oh, don't remind me of that one." Jedi were so dastardly fragile. Rummaging in the upper cupboard, Zeb pulled out a spice packet. "Here."

"Whad ith it?" Sabine peered at the writing through bleary eyes.

"Just something to help with the symptoms. It'll clear your head."

Sabine shrugged and dumped the packet into her tea. She took a sip, gagged, and ran to rinse her mouth under the faucet. Zeb chuckled.

"Zeltron pop-pepper. Cures any sinus problems. Drink up, Sabine; nearest med-facility is another mission away."

He left her to her misery and delivered the stim-caf to Hera. Ezra was awake and babbling about Rydonian platoons, while Kanan looked prepared to dice the next Lasat who nudged a toe over the threshold.

Engine room was safer, then.

"Never thought the droid would make better company," Zeb grumbled.

As he passed the kitchen, he noticed Sabine's mug was empty.

The sneezing quieted by morning.

* * *

**Translations for Sabine's "allergy-lingo":**

_"Dere's neber a problem ad 'ome."_  (There's never a problem at home)

 _"I god a reaction ad dah academy thometimes. Dey had thtim thots."_  (I got a reaction at the academy sometimes. They had stim shots.)

 _"Med kid's empdy. Thtupid Ezra used 'em on Kanan afder the lastht misthion cause his knee gave out, and we didn't hab a chanthe to rethtock."_  (Med kit's empty. Stupid Ezra used them on Kanan after the last mission because his knee gave out, and we didn't have a chance to restock.)

 _"Whad ith it?"_  (What is it?)

 


	17. Covert Cataclysm

– 7 months after  _Never Alone_.

* * *

"It'll be an easy mission – in and out. No problems."

"That's what you said before," Hera muttered sarcastically. "And the mission before that….."

"Well, this time it will be," Kanan assured. "Besides, I've got Zeb covering me."

"Oh,  _please_." Zeb puffed aggravatedly. "I told Sabine last time, I'm not wearing bucket armor again."

"He'll be right outside the building," Kanan clarified. "We're far enough out of Imperial territory that a few stormtroopers shouldn't be a problem."

"Can'd I comb?" Ezra whined pitifully. He sneezed wetly and grimaced, wiping his hand on his jumpsuit.

"You're sick, no, that's final. Hera, keep him inside."

"Bud you thaid I thould learn do fighd drough dithtractions."

" _Hera_ ," Kanan said pointedly.

The Twi'lek smiled and slung her arm around Ezra's shoulders, effectively trapping him. "I'll keep him quiet."

"Nod fair," Ezra mumbled.

"Since when is being coddled by Hera unfair?" Kanan said, clicking on his helmet. "I know she spoils you when I'm gone."

Ezra's eyes brightened and he sneezed again. "Tho Chobber can'd shock me while I'mb thick?"

"Oh, he'll leave you alone," Hera swore.

"And Thabine cad cook?"

"What's wrong with my rycrit stew?" Hera frowned.

"You're making him rycrit stew?" Kanan exclaimed. He grumbled under his breath and shoved past Zeb. "That's it. I'm sitting this one out."

"Oh, no you don't!" Zeb exclaimed, yanking the Jedi down the ramp. "You even think of playing sick and I'm throwing you down a sewage shaft."

"You're making  _him_  rycrit stew and I'm the one stuck with ration cubes?" Kanan called over his shoulder.

Hera waved brightly. "Don't be long!"

Ezra sneezed.

* * *

Mission completed. Obtained: one new transmitter and a long-range receiver, with a few burning AT-ST Walkers to round off the stipend. Just another day of sabotaging the Empire.

"Spectre Two, ready for pickup." Kanan bundled the transmitter into his pack and tapped his helmet, signaling Zeb. "Copy that, Spectre Four?"

"Yeah, yeah," the Lasat drawled. "Just get the ship over here – and tell the Loth brat your helmet isn't for collection."

Kanan had the brief opportunity to consider how that  _might_  have counted as the force's warning, before green blazed around him and his visor went dark.

"Karabast …. Hera..." Zeb's voice sizzled over Kanan's com. "Told you…. Watch for… signal… that was … I'll get…."

The communicator sparked dead and Kanan rolled over, shouting when his back recoiled.  _What… happened?_

One moment he had sensed the Ghost's approach, and the next….  _Cannon fire? I told her I would be in Imperial uniform!_

"Kanan?" Zeb called distantly.

Twisting to one elbow, Kanan dragged himself several inches, avoiding the brittle shards of charred metal and twisted piping. Thank the force the blast had spiraled him far enough to avoid most of the damage.  _Concussion is ultimately preferable to being cooked in an armored suit._

Kanan made it to his knees before his back spasmed and he fell with a hoarse yell.  _Straight through the armor. Could your aim have been a little worse, Hera!_

He looked back woozily and the metal chunk sticking from his back wavered.  _Definitely worse than it could be. Now would be a good time to call in backup._

He raised his head to shout and the duracrete spun into grey mire. Maybe screaming incoherently was a more reasonable plan.

_Or you could just call Ezra._

Or convince his fatuous brain to function properly.

"Kanan?" Zeb's voice was faint, almost hallucinated.

"Well, well." The boot under Kanan's chin was no delusion. A twist of Imperial gloves and Kanan cringed from the sun's glare, his helmet tossed aside. "If it isn't our Jedi on the run. I had hoped I would be the one to return you to the Empire, but for your own ship to hand you over?"

"Kal…." Kanan gagged and took small pleasure in the mess now desecrating Kallus' prim boots. The agent shuffled back in disgust.

"That is your only response? And I always admired your wit. No matter. Once Emperor Palpatine learns of your capture, he will ensnare the rest of your mottled crew. The boy will be returned and your crew will die, and I will be there to witness your  _real_  execution."

Kanan rasped a retort and vaguely wondered what his mouth was saying. Kallus laughed.

"You can't protect your padawan this time, Jarrus. I know who he is. He is the son of Anakin Skywalker. Don't look at me like I'm a fool; I found his true parentage months ago. There will be no _Darth Vader_  training him this time. When I have wiped his mind I will present him to the Emperor personally, and he will spend his last days in the spice mines far beyond your reach. You have failed, Kanan. You were always destined to –  _Pthuh!"_

A slug to the face and a roll of the eyes, and Kallus folded. Zeb flapped his hand distastefully. "Always knew he was trouble."

Smiling weakly, Kanan garbled a reply. Instantly Zeb knelt beside him, fingers spidering over Kanan's skull.

"Karabast, you didn't tell me your head was blown. How many fingers do you see?"

Twelve, and they were all as large as Zeb's fist. Kanan crossed his eyes and tried not to hurl.

"Spectre Four to Ghost… yeah, I've got him. You could call in next time before shooting a random trooper! …. Looks like he ruined all your hard work. He's bleeding a little; might want to hurry up with that landing party. …. Yeah, I'll keep him conscious."

Stowing the com, Zeb snapped his fingers in Kanan's face. Blearily Kanan jolted.

"Thtop…."  _Don't do that again!_

"Now you're sounding like Ezra. Didn't I tell you I'd throw you in the trash heap if you called out sick on this mission? Where am I supposed to find another transmitter?"

Hopefully somewhere pleasantly lacking in green lasers and nausea. The purple blur shouted and flipped over, and Kanan felt blissfully pain-free before –

* * *

" _Kanan. Kanan!"_

Blaring light and slurring grey transformed into the Ghost's walls. Kanan blinked unsteadily and groaned. "Ow."

"Well, that's an understatement." Hera laid aside a damp cloth, cool fingers resting on Kanan's brow. "Fever's down. If you wanted my rycrit stew so badly, you could have asked me to save a bowl."

Kanan frowned, his tongue slowly remembering how to form words. "Shot…?"

Hera cringed. "Kanan, I …."

He couldn't remember the last time she had shrunk into herself; so open; so vulnerable.

"S'okay," he lisped, limp fingers sliding from her arm. "Accident."

"I swear if I had…." Hera closed her eyes, looking nauseated herself. Regaining her wits, she said timorously, "Um… You had a serious concussion. You probably don't remember the last two days."

If it involved vomiting, spinning walls and loud voices, he didn't want to.

"You were actually relatively uninjured." Hera laughed weakly. "There was a shrapnel vane in your back, but your armor took most of the damage. Our greatest concern was the head injury. – Of course, you also shook up everything you've been trying to heal in the last few months."

Her voice trailed off and she stroked Kanan's hair, a small, relieved smile playing at her lips. "You're a very lucky guy."

"Transmitter?" Kanan finally remembered.

"Thabine got dat."

Kanan tracked the new voice and the walls rotated momentarily. Ezra leaned in the doorway, nose puffy and eyes bloodshot.

"You thaid you didn't need mbe," he accused. "Yer'a liar."

"Ezra, go sleep off the medication," Hera said. Ezra scowled.

"Bud Kanan's thick."

"No arguments. You can say hello, and then you're going back to your room or I'm calling Zeb to carry you."

"Sides, I might hurl on you," Kanan warned.

"I don'd care." Ezra shrugged. "Kanan, can'd I thtay?"

"M'not dealing with this," Kanan muttered. "Goodnight, Ezra."

He left Hera to fuss over the kid's protests. A soft pillow and the voices of his crew were the only reassurances he needed tonight. Tomorrow he'd worry about how much Kallus knew regarding Ezra. For now he would –

He was asleep.

* * *

 **Ezra's "Cold-lingo" translations** :

"Can'd I comb?" (Can't I come?)

"Bud you thaid I thould learn do fighd drough dithtractions." (But you said I should learn to fight through distractions.)

"Nod fair." (Not fair.)

"Tho Chobber can'd shock me while I'mb thick?" (So Chopper can't shock me when I'm sick?)

"And Thabine cad cook?" (And Sabine can cook?)

(Part II)

"Thabine got dat." (Sabine got that.)

"You thaid you didn't need mbe. Yer'a liar." (You said you didn't need me. You're a liar.)

"Bud Kanan's thick." (But Kanan's sick.)

"I don'd care. Kanan, can'd I thtay?" (I don't care. Kanan, can't I stay?)


	18. Daddy Issues

– 8 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Darth Vader was an impenetrable shell. A literal shell, unfortunately, more useless droid than man, but still useful to Sidious' cause. His son would be infinitely more –

"A son! Emperor Palpatine, I have a son! This is wonderful news! Did you hear?"

Sidious cringed, fingers curling into white claws as Darth Vader dashed into the room, displaying a holopic from the Imperial Academy.

"He takes after Padme, doesn't he? But he has my eyes. Here, look for yourself."

"What are you doing, Vader?" Sidious pushed the holopic away and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Only preparing the Death Star for the most wizard father-son bonding celebration e _ver_. Here; you have an invitation."

Vader's impenetrable shell had just found an exceptionally large, heart-shaped fissure. Sidious moaned. "You're supposed to be hunting him down, Darth Vader."

"Oh, I don't see why. After all, he's only a boy. Here – let me show you one of the security holos they took of him during Empire Day."

"He is a Jedi padawan, and a rebel," Sidious grated. "He must join the Sith or die."

Darth Vader's rambling ceased. "Was there any question? Of course he'll be my padawan. I'm not about to let  _Kanan_  play uncle."

"You're supposed to kill Kanan." He was losing his droid pawn. How unfortunate.

"Well, that comes later in the plan. For now, Ezra is all that matters. It'll be perfect; he'll finish his schooling at the Imperial Academy, then I'll pick up his training – with a proper lightsaber, granted; I can't have him running around masquerading as a Jedi – and when he is finally used to Imperial society I'll introduce him to everyone! It is hard for a kid off the streets to make friends, you know."

"Darth Vader, why are you doing this?" Sidious' mind was dissolving just  _listening_  to the prospect.

"Oh, you know how it is when a father is reunited with his – wait a minute. If Ezra is Padme's son, then how was he born? She couldn't have had him on Mustafar after I choked her to death."

"This conversation is ending right here." He had a sudden urge to check the Death Star's security protocol.

"Whoa, now – hold on, Emperor. We need to discuss this. If I killed Padme in my anger, where did the kid come from?"

"Your training ends now. Congratulations, you're officially a Sith Lord. I'll be in my –"

"You don't think you're getting away with it that easily, do you?"

Darth Sidious mercifully woke before Vader could pester him with more questions. He glanced at the beeping console signaling Kallus' transmission, then groaned and turned over, pulling the covers over his head. Let the nosy agent run himself ragged searching for Ezra Skywalker. If Vader took his time reclaiming the brat, all the better. Darth Sidious was not offering any help.

After all, certain visions had a nasty habit of coming true.

* * *

In other words, 'Why Emperor Palpatine hasn't fired Kallus for consistently losing Ezra Bridger.'


	19. Son of Skywalker

\- 3 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

"I thought that – being a Jedi Master and head of the rebel operation – you should be the first to know."

"Has this … similarity … been proven with evidence?"

Kanan ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "As far as I know, Vader's half machine. I don't know if we would find blood in him, let alone obtain some for a comparison. This whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me. I mean – look at the kid. He's got parents of his own! He's not the son of some … weird… Krayt spawn."

"Yet you are starting to believe Vader's claims."

Sighing, Kanan looked down at his hands. "I don't know. The kid's been acting up recently. I think he half-believes it himself. I'm worried about how this is affecting him."

"Then you are searching for proof."

"I'd like to think of it as 'confirmation of absolution'. I don't want him to be scared his entire life."

"Fear is only the anticipation of the unknown. He must trust in the force."

"I know – I keep telling him that." Agitatedly Kanan popped his neck. "I guess I was hoping for answers. Whether his heritage is a lie or not, Ezra is being hunted. I don't know how much longer we can run from a Sith. It's not a matter of whether or not I'll train him. For his own peace of mind, I need to know: did Anakin Skywalker leave a kid behind?"

There was silence on the other end of the com. Kanan shrugged. "I guess, being a Jedi, you wouldn't expect something like that. I forget how different the Temple's regulations were."

At last his contact spoke. "That answer is not mine to divulge. For your padawan's sake, do not share this with anyone else. Continue to train him as you were intending, and perhaps this mystery will one day come to light."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi." Kanan nodded somberly. "May the force be with you."

As the holo switched off, Obi-wan eased back in his chair. If the name Skywalker was heard abroad – if even rumors of a child bearing the name were made known….

Turning to the com, he signaled an old friend.

"Owen Lars, this is Ben Kenobi….."

* * *

"So… We think it's for the best."

"Your uncle is right. It'll be good for all of us; you'll be like one of the family."

"But why do I have to change anything? What am I going to tell Wedge – that my data was mixed up in some file scam and I've had the wrong name all this time?"

"Whatever you decide to do, we don't care. But from now on, your name is Lars."

"Luke Lars?  _Luke Lars?_  My life is boring enough! Why can't we reenter the data?"

"Enough arguing, Luke. We've already settled the problem. Now, go clean up for supper."

"… … But Luke  _Lars?_ "

Why couldn't he have been born on Coruscant?


	20. Freedom

8 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Explosives were fireflies and stars capitulated in a single flare of sunset.

Art was beauty and adrenaline coupled with the battering of soot and shrapnel as Sabine ran.

Explosives brought carnage.

Art signified hope.

Explosives heralded disorder.

Art created freedom.

It wasn't fair that she was caged within an Imperial masterpiece, condemned to demolish the town she was meant to preserve.

It wasn't fair that Lothal would be her burial grounds, so far from Mandalore and her parents.

Would Kanan tell them she had died with glory, defending the Empire?

Sabine tucked her face into her arms, holding back the thought. She quivered, and could not stop. Durasteel shell encased her. She couldn't stretch her legs.

_Don't cry. Not at this last moment. Don't cry._

Her explosives were gone, her helmet confiscated. The crew wouldn't even know what had happened until they found shards of her blackened armor.

_Hera, I'm sorry._

_I should have been more careful, Zeb._

_I wish I could have given you that paint job, Chopper._

_Kanan, this isn't your fault._

_Ezra… don't stop being an idiot._

She would miss them. Even after death, she would cry out.

Maybe this was how force-ghosts came to life.

Touching the cold steel, Sabine closed her eyes. It would be quick. A soaring of her heart, a shriek of terror, the touch of fire. She would die bravely, knowing she hadn't betrayed her family.

_You won't cry._

_Don't cry._

_Don't –_

Hang it all, her face was wet.

_Goodbye…_

The missile shifted and Sabine squeezed her eyes shut. Metal cranked.… Lifted.…

And sunlight collided with her cheek. Gasping, Sabine covered her eyes.

"Sabine! Chopper, you were right. She's here!"

Ezra's voice. Those were his patched gloves tugging her free. Sabine floundered, found his collar, clung to his neck.

"Whoah – hey, it's okay, Sabine. We got you out. Are you hurt?"

Fine,  _fine_ , she was fine. She wasn't going to die. She wasn't going to burn in art and carnage.

Dang it, her face was still wet.

"Sabine? What's wrong? Did they hurt you? Chopper, stop whirring like a useless bucket and contact Hera!"

"I – I'm okay," Sabine choked, furiously scrubbing her eyes. "I can walk."

"You sure?" Ezra's eyes were wide as he set her down, hovering.

"Yeah." Limbs intact. Hardly even a bruise from when she'd been thrown into the durasteel prison.

Her knees were shaky.

"Sabine." Ezra cupped her elbow and shoulder, leading her down the steps. Past stacks of art waiting to execute someone else. "I've got you. Hera's waiting with the Ghost. You're safe."

 _Safe._  How many times Sabine had repeated that word to Ezra. She never thought it could mean so much to him.

"Spectre Four, this is Spectre Six," Ezra said into the com. "Tell Spectre One to return to the Phantom. Spectres Three and Six returning to the Ghost with Spectre Five."

"What took you so long?" Zeb's voice rang.

"Never mind that. Just – Sabine!"

The ground slipped and Sabine didn't mind. She was safe, and Ezra was there to catch her.

As sturdy arms wrapped around her, her last blissful thought was that the Ghost's laser fire was beautiful.

Like freedom.

 


	21. Prejudice

8 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

"Over there!"

"Stop him!"

Okay, so maybe Kanan was right – splitting up was a bad idea. But Ezra needed a few minutes away from the smell, and Zeb  _really_  needed to calm down. Besides, this way they had finished their errands in double time. Kanan should be  _grateful_  that -

"He's behind those crates!" one stormtrooper shouted.

Yeah. Separating. Not ingenious.

"I hope this works…." Ezra muttered between his teeth. There was a charming fuel cell waiting right by that AT-ST…. Springing onto the crates, Ezra twirled his saber free and ricocheted the oncoming shots. Red lasers pattered the fuel barrel and a lucky bolt punched through.

The explosion would have brought Sabine to tears.

Seriously. He needed to try this the next time they sabotaged together. A little moonlight, a little fire…. Maybe Sabine would immortalize him in one of her murals. (With more dignity than the last one, that is.)

Elated, Ezra deactivated his lightsaber and jumped down. The twisted metal of the AT-ST groaned dishearteningly. Kanan was going to lecture him right into a chore list from Hera if he ever heard about  _this_.

"Guess it's time to make that rendezvous," Ezra said, reaching for his com.

Suddenly the crates made an interesting close-up with his face.

_Ow…. ow, ow, Ow!_

"Gah!" Ezra cried out, cradling his cheekbone. For a moment the AT-ST fires blackened and his left ear whined. Reeling, Ezra slumped against the crates, blinking up at a hulking, furry stranger.

"You're with the Old Religion," the Gotal said in disgust. He spat at Ezra's lightsaber and kicked it aside. Hesitating, the Gotal examined the padawan thoroughly, as though uncertain about the proper age limits for bludgeoning an opponent. Too soon his lip curled and his nose tapered in disgust. "I don't like religious tripe."

 _Well, sorry to be intrusive!_  Scowling, Ezra rubbed his cheek and carefully rose. The Gotal was still twisting his furry hand into a fist, calculating the merits of a fight. Ezra was half incented to indulge him.

For Kanan, he would walk away.

"Hate to disrupt your evening plans, but I'm on a strict bedtime curfew," Ezra said languidly. Pity it wasn't a lie. If Hera kept this up, he'd be taking afternoon naps by the time he was seventeen.

The Gotal stiffened. "I'm not finished with you."

Well, that ended the negotiations. If Zeb was here, Ezra could blame any scuffle on him. Maybe just one force-push wouldn't do any harm.

 _"Ezra..."_  he could almost hear Kanan scold.

Fine. He would leave quietly.

 _Guess that makes me the boring, inerrant padawan_ , Ezra thought cynically. The things he did for his master. Rolling his eyes, he held out his hand and waited for his lightsaber to smack into his palm.

His unblemished cheek found the smack from an open hand instead.

His lightsaber sailed into the far corner.

 _Oh, Karabast!_  Ezra threw out his arms too late and grunted as a hairy fist plunged into his stomach.  _Breathe! Just…_

The crates clashed against fire and the sky whirled into the mix. Coughing, Ezra detangled himself from the rubble and batted embers from his sleeves.

 _Ow, ow, ow!_  Throbbing jaw, bruising stomach and another shiner on the right cheek. Nothing inhibiting. He'd been beat up before; he knew how to take care of himself. Besides, this Gotal had nothing on a Jedi. Briskly Ezra raised his arm and –

Thick fingers wrapped around his wrist and the fires spun again. Somersaulting, rolling, gravity slowing his fall before he slid against another fuel cell. Grating his teeth, Ezra stumbled to his knees and raised his hands, prepared to dash the Gotal against the wall.

"I wouldn't."

Rigidly Ezra tracked the Gotal's blaster. Straight behind his left shoulder. Aimed at the fuel barrel.

Ezra swallowed.

Even with the force, he couldn't possibly protect himself from the blast.

"I'm going to enjoy this," the Gotal said tactlessly. He brushed the trigger.

Blaster fire zipped past Ezra's head, pinging off the far wall. The Gotal grinned.

"Oops. Missed that one. Try this, Jedi."

A second shot grazed Ezra's leg, pounding into the ground inches from the barrel. Growling, Ezra squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on anything but the hot anger pooling inside.

_I'm not going to kill him. I'm_ _**not** _ _going to be like you, Vader!_

He wanted to swarm the Gotal with the force and watch him explode from within.

It would be so easy.

It would be justice.

" _Ezra, whatever is going on, stop it right now and get back to the Ghost!"_  Kanan's voice was panicked.

Ashamed, Ezra exhaled heavily, letting the anger shred away. Wouldn't that have made a mural for Sabine to remember.

" _I'm sorry, Kanan. I'm okay."_

Worry flooded the bond. Calmer, Ezra pushed Kanan aside and stared down the Gotal.

"Go ahead. Kill me."

The Gotal faltered. He had hoped for a pathetic show. Maybe a few sniveling tears, and a garbled plea for mercy. It was just a kid, after all.

Kids weren't supposed to look dangerous.

Swallowing thickly, the Gotal raised his shaking blaster. "I'm going to shoot your legs, Jedi scum. Then I'll put so many holes in your arms you won't be able to wipe your runny nose, and then maybe if I'm kind I'll let you burn to death from that –"

A sharp, electric whine speared the alley and the Gotal shrieked, raising his hands to cover his horns. Immediately a purple arm lashed out and slammed his face into the wall.

"Keep your hands off my Lothrat!" Zeb shouted, dropping an overloaded transmitter before the writhing Gotal.

"Zeb?" Ezra exclaimed in disbelief.

"Move, you great lump!" Zeb retorted, tossing the Gotal far away from the wreckage. "This entire place is gonna blow!"

Galvanized, Ezra lashed out for his saber and gratefully clapped his hand around smooth metal. Suddenly he was hefted up and jolting on Zeb's shoulder, bruised ribs spiking with each jounce. Ezra gasped and pressed a hand against his stomach. "Zeb – st – stop!"

Brick and shale kerploded, throwing the Lasat off his feet. Once more Ezra's face paid homage to the closest wall. He groaned and clutched his dripping nose.

"Why? Why id it always my faithe?"

"You're not the only one bleeding," Zeb retorted, swiping gravel from his fur. "Come on. We missed the rendezvous an hour ago."

"Coming." It sounded more like 'cohmbing.' Swiveling a loose tooth with his tongue, Ezra wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Kanan was going to have a fit.

"Eh… kid, you alive?" Zeb cringed sympathetically.

"Geah! Fine!" Ezra snapped, brushing him away. He pressed his sleeve against his jaw, tottering to his feet.  _One foot after the other. You've survived worse._

"Suit yourself."

One reason he  _kin-da_  liked Zeb's tendency to ignore people. He was the only one who let Ezra lick his wounds in peace.

 _One foot after the other._  Cracked ribs, bruised cheekbone, minor spotting in his vision, several loose teeth. Nothing a few quiet days wouldn't fix.

"If you wobble too much and keel over, I'm not carrying your worthless hide," Zeb warned.

Translation:  _'I'll grab you when you're ready to cave in your face.'_

"I can walk," Ezra responded tartly. ' _But I know if I collapse, you won't leave me here to bleed out.'_

"Fine. See you back at the Ghost next week, kid." ' _See you up and training by then, or else Kanan is going to kill me.'_

"Psh! I'll be there before you, y'lazy wampa." ' _I'm fine, so you can stop hovering.'_

"Yeah, yeah." ' _Not buying it, but I'll let you plod on until your legs fall off.'_

And they did plod on. For one long, aching mile, until Lothal's grass proved more interesting up close and Ezra didn't care whether or not the sky was trying to change its compass. Zeb slung him over his hunched, massive shoulders and he played abandoned Loth-kit until the Ghost's outline sharpened and they saw Kanan waiting in the open gangway.

"I'm dead," Ezra mumbled. ' _Down. Now. Before he sees this.'_

"I'll be there for your funeral," Zeb said gleefully. ' _Yeah, it was getting to be too soft a moment for me, Lothrat.'_

He slid Ezra down one shoulder, minding the swollen wrist. Ezra wiped his face one more time and set his shoulders, limping on stoically. Zeb shortened his stride.

"What happened?" Kanan asked the moment they set foot on the ramp. There was more concern in his posture than disapproval.

"The kid found an Imperial sympathizer," Zeb said disinterestedly. He yawned exaggeratedly and shouldered past Kanan. "Well, I'm off to the kitchen. Nutrient bars again, eh?"

Kanan's eyes flickered to Ezra, and the padawan cringed. "It wasn't my fault this time."

"I know." Kanan's brow dipped and he stepped away from the door, tentatively laying an arm across Ezra's shoulders. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I can take care of –"

"And I say Hera knows more about a medkit than you or I combined. Just ten minutes, Ezra."

Sighing, Ezra acceded. He could have handled it by himself. Really.

Kanan's frown softened.  _"You don't need to anymore."_

" _How much did you sense?"_  The anger. The desire to kill.

" _Enough."_  Kanan's fingers tensed on Ezra's shoulder.  _"We'll talk about it in the morning._ "

Morning. After a cup of cocoa casually set on his bunk table by Sabine. After a subtle kiss to his forehead when Hera thought he was zoned out. After a scheme from Chopper to pull his loose tooth. After Zeb pretended to be asleep for six hours straight - just to be sure he was there if 'the stupid Lothrat fell off his bunk'.

Ezra could handle an interrogation from his master by then.

After all, Kanan would be staring at the deactivated holo-chess table for hours tonight.

Even he wanted to beat up a psychotic Gotal.

* * *

 **About the Gotal's Defeat** :

Taken from Wookiepedia – "Their (the Gotals') most distinctive features were the twin conical horns growing on the top of their heads, which acted as highly responsive electro-magnetic sensors and caused discomfort when exposed to complex electrical systems, like droids."

Zeb overloaded a transmitter and exposed the Gotal directly to the electro-waves, which basically spasmed out his brain. Non-lethal, but as much fun as being trapped in a room full of droning mosquitos for an hour.

* * *

Ezra's "battered nose" translation: "Why id it always my faithe?" (Why is it always my face?)

 


	22. Stupid Tooka

This is the mission referenced in the oneshot "Allergies" 

* * *

\- 10 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

Capital City. Home of AT-ST platoons, easily incented bucketheads, and far too many temptations.

"What did I tell you before we left?" Kanan railed as Ezra deliberately emptied his pack over a wobbling table. "We sneak in, dismantle the transmissions, snag the crates, and  _get out._  No food stops, no 'fresher complaints, no out-of-mission thievery, no – wait, is that an AT-AT canon battery?"

"Uh-huh," Ezra said smugly, tossing the heavy cylinder and catching it one handed.

"Where did you  _get_  that?" Kanan sifted through the equipment scattered over the lopsided table, eyes gleaming appreciatively as he found a high-level transceiver from the same walker.

"They mi-ght have left the hatch open while chasing some shadowy Loth-rat," Ezra said out of the corner of his mouth.

Kanan glowered.

"What?" Ezra defended. "I backtracked and the square was empty. I couldn't leave all this valuable equipment undefended. Someone might have stolen it."

Kanan's jaw clenched and he returned to the loot, shaking his head. Ezra swore he heard him mutter, "Gets it from Hera's side. All Hera."

"Admit it, I did pretty good." Ezra smirked.

"No, you just avoided a chore list. You're lucky Zeb wasn't in charge."

"Oh, yeah…." Ezra stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Too bad. We could've stolen the entire walker."

Kanan twitched.

"Whoa, Hera's right!" Ezra grinned. "You do spaz out whenever Zeb or I get involved."

"She was specifying  _you,_ " Kanan retorted. He waved his hand in Ezra's face. "You will return to the Ghost now, without any more 'acquirement delays'."

"Nah. Don't feel like it," Ezra deadpanned.

Kanan scowled. "One of these days – "

He looked over his shoulder, wincing as high beams filtered through the shutters. "Time's up."

Promptly Ezra scooped the equipment back into his pack and followed Kanan to the door. Commandeering officers and prowling AT-ST's filled the streets. Tapping Ezra's shoulder, Kanan beckoned to the side and led him into a cramped alley. Immediately Ezra recognized the terrain. A twist to the right and a brief rooftop crawl, and they would have a clear path to the Ghost.

_How long has Kanan been scouting Lothal? I didn't discover this street until I was twelve!_

"Hiring a guide was expedient to the mission," Kanan replied. "That was a long time ago."

"You can read my thoughts now?" Ezra gushed. "That is  _so_  awesome. I can't even –"

"I don't  _have_  to read your thoughts." Kanan rolled his eyes. "You looked as though you'd seen the Tarkin waltzing in a tooka costume."

"Wait – did he really –"

"Come  _on_ , Ezra!"

They sprinted down the alley, ducking behind garbage heaps and empty crates whenever a bucket platoon drew near. Ten feet from the wall, they had a clear dash.

"Go," Kanan urged, glancing briefly at the far entrance.

Ezra bolted, hearing his master's boots scuff just behind. It was amazing that Kanan could run so  _quietly_  – every Imperial officer could be heard two alleys away.

_Five feet…. One…._

There was a stumble, a cut-off yell, and a sickening clatter.

"Kanan?" Ezra whipped around, yelping as a small, furry creature sprang from Kanan's head. A rumpled Loth-cat zipped between the padawan's legs and sprang up a shredded market stall, spitting indignantly. Kanan rolled to one knee and flung a rock at its head.

"Kanan!" Ezra hissed.

"I hate tookas," Kanan muttered scathingly. He braced himself on a crate and rose stiffly, arms quivering. His leg jerked and he slumped to grab it, tumbling behind the crate.

"Kanan!" Instantly Ezra was beside his master, searching for the source of injury.

"Stupid Loth-cat!" Kanan shouted as he gripped his left knee. His bad knee. The one that had never healed properly after Kallus' interrogations.

"Can you walk?" Ezra asked, looking frantically down the alley. The shouts were getting closer.

"Yeah!" Kanan grunted. He heaved himself upwards and blanched. Swaying, he mumbled reluctantly, "Need a hand."

"I've got this," Ezra assured, pulling Kanan's arm over his shoulders. Lights from the right alley blinded him. "Straight or left?"

"Left," Kanan rasped. "We'll have to risk the streets."

"I grabbed a few –"

"This isn't the time to chat about your loot, kid!"

"But I – "

"Hold it right there, you two!" a stormtrooper barked.

Ezra gulped as white helmets closed in from behind. "Yeah, we'll talk about it later."

He ducked blaster fire and sniped two of the troopers, dragging Kanan out of the alley. The Jedi Master lurched, grunting between his teeth every time he was forced to put weight on his leg. They skirted a second platoon and barely avoided the scope of an AT-ST. At the last moment Ezra swerved from the floodlights, pelting down the main street until Kanan hollered and they both stumbled against a shadowed hovel.

"I think we're clear," Ezra panted, arranging a few pots to conceal them both.

"Five minutes!" Kanan gasped. He clutched his knee, face drawn and slick. His eyes shuttered in a healing trance, but Ezra knew five minutes wouldn't even numb the frayed nerves.

"Here," he said briskly, rummaging in the lower pocket of his pack. "I have these."

Kanan watched in alarm as Ezra spread out a handful of stim-shots. "You brought  _how many?_  Why didn't you just pack the entire medkit?"

"Um…." Ezra hoped Jedi senses couldn't pick up on his burning ears. "Well… Sabine's allergic to flower pollen, and I thought maybe if we ran a mission together I could save her life and she'd realize –"

"Wait. You packed  _all_  the stim shots in the med-kit  _just in case_  Sabine started sneezing."

Scratching the back of his neck, Ezra stammered, "I… uh…."

Kanan rolled his eyes and flung out a hand. "Give me one."

Sheepishly Ezra ripped off the plastic casing and set the needle. "Do you want me to – "

"You there!"

Ezra flinched and Kanan subtly fingered his blaster as a cone-shaped hat approached.

"This is highly irregular! Don't you realize it is an hour past curfew? I could have you both arrested."

"M-Minister Tua?" Ezra gasped. He glanced at Kanan, shushed quickly, and spun around with what Zeb called his 'abandoned Lothkit expression'. "I'm so sorry, Minister Tua. We were trying to get home but – but my dad's hurt. He fell during his factory shift and I'm trying to get him home. Please don't arrest him! Mom's home alone and there's no one else to look after my sister if she has to take Dad's shift."

"Oh…." Tua flinched sympathetically and the rigidness left her stance as she looked over Ezra's shoulder. "I see… We do offer shuttles from the factory."

"We missed the shuttle," Ezra said desolately. "It only makes one trip."

"What? Why, I …." Scowling, Tua muttered, "I told them to refinance the factory transports. Well, now," she determined, rummaging in her back pocket, "I'll see to it that you're escorted to the medcenter."

"We can't afford it!" Ezra blustered. He glanced furtively at Kanan, hoping he would play along, and hid a grin. Kanan was exaggerating his injury, moaning until Ezra almost worried that he was in agony. Cheekiness instantly filtered across the bond and Kanan winked.

"You can't afford…?" Tua cleared her throat, looking more flustered. "I thought we had supplies enough for the lower family circles… perhaps we should re-examine the medcenter funds…."

Her voice trailed off and she sighed. Peering at Ezra's hand, she murmured, "Is that…." Glancing at the pile of stim-shots, she gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. "Is that how you intended to see him home?"

"I –"

"Give me that! Don't you realize how potent these are?" Minister Tua snatched away the stim-shot and capped it, bundling the rest into her pocket. "You might have killed him with such a high dosage!"

"I wasn't going to use all of them!" Ezra protested.

"Never mind. This simply will not do. I will call for a transport to take you and your father home – no arguments, young man. There will be no charges." Tua smiled thinly. "I can assure you, the Empire is not as cruel as some may believe."

"I… thank you?" Ezra said faintly. He looked to Kanan for help.  _How do we get out of this?_

"It's all right," Kanan said as he sat up. He smiled gregariously at Tua and waved his hand before her. "You don't need to call for a transport."

Tua stiffened indignantly. "I  _what_? – Who do you think you are, a –?" Her eyes narrowed flintily. "You're that…."

"He's only a factory worker!" Ezra said desperately. "Please, we didn't mean any trouble. We just want to get home."

Tua studied him for the first time and her expression softened. Her eyes back flickered to Kanan, narrowing dangerously, and then shifted to Ezra with a soft wince. Looking away, Tua nibbled her finger and then reached into her side pouch.

"I suppose… I don't have to call for a transport."

Kanan sighed and closed his eyes. "Thank you."

"But this is highly irregular," Tua snapped. "On any other occasion I should have to report this to my superiors. In the future, I suggest you avoid further injuries – and catch the transport on time."

"We will!" Ezra gusted. "And thank you!"

Fondly Tua squeezed his shoulder. She bent close, whispering as she slid a disk into his hand. Ezra paled.

"Hurry off now," Tua said, zipping her side pouch and rising. She turned her back and strolled away, shoulders set against the moonlight.

"What did she say?" Kanan wondered.

"Nothing – she said the back roads were clear." Quickly Ezra rummaged in his pack and pulled out a crooked cylinder. Kanan rolled his eyes.

"You did empty the medkit."

"If I say the force prompted me to, you'll congratulate me, right?" Ezra handed the stim-shot to Kanan, who yanked the cap off with his teeth and jabbed it into his thigh.

" _Force_  – they never said these were easy." Kanan shook his head dissorientedly, and Ezra could see the glaze leave his eyes. "All right. Help me up."

"You know..." Ezra said tentatively as he looped Kanan's arm over his shoulders. "… I almost wonder if Minister Tua is on our side."

Kanan snorted, wincing as he dragged his left leg forward. "Could've fooled me. She nearly arrested us. We're lucky she's susceptible to the force – that, and your pathetic Loth-kit eyes won through."

Ezra forced a chuckle. "Yeah ….. Right."

But there was more. She  _hadn't_  been susceptible to the force. She'd almost arrested them because Kanan was there. Something had changed her mind, and it hadn't been a kidsy expression or whimpering blue eyes.

" _Run, Skywalker,"_  Tua had said.

Ezra  _Bridger_  was supposed to be dead.

How had she known?

* * *

"Not again!" Zeb yowled as Kanan and Ezra stumbled into the Ghost. "What did you do this time? Trip over a Loth-cat?"

Kanan growled. Zeb chuckled darkly, and then jolted. "You did get that from cross-fire, didn't you? You fell off a wall?"

"He tripped on a Loth-cat." Ezra simpered. Kanan slapped him over the head and promptly tumbled onto his face.

"Haha! You – wait, you really did? You tripped? You –" Incredulous, Zeb stared at the humiliated Jedi. " _Heraaa!_ " he called over his shoulder. "Your 'brainless leader' has returned."

"About time!" Hera said. "Did you get the – Kanan?"

"He's fine," Zeb grumbled, slinging the Jedi over his shoulder.

"Ow – Zeb –  _Ow!_ "

"Stop whining, ya puny lepi. One of these days I'm gonna send Chopper to finish the job."

"Zeb, put me down right now!"

"What happened?" Hera drawled, folding her arms serenely as Kanan was borne away.

"He might have been assaulted by a tooka," Ezra said casually.

A crash sounded from the other room and Sabine yowled, "Ethra, where are da thtim-thots?"

Hera rolled her eyes. "That makes two of them. I'll fetch the medkit."

Eyes shifting guiltily, Ezra shuffled into the back room.  _Oops._

* * *

After two days of listening to a cranky Jedi vow vengeance on all Loth-cats (until Zeb began to wonder if it was really Vader who was the Sith lord), Hera left the ship in Chopper's hands.

"Oh, so she gets sick and I stick around for weeks until she's ready to walk on her own, but I'm bedridden for two days and she walks off to buy meilooruns. There are no meilooruns on Lothal, Hera!"

"Oh, get over it!" Zeb yelled from the other room.

Ezra listened apathetically, playing with his new helmet transmitter. Kanan grumbled to himself and continued examining the AT-AT battery core. "I am not impeded by a tooka," he mumbled

"Are you sure Hera isn't buying tranquilizers?" Ezra asked innocently. Blue-green eyes tried to solder him to the wall. "…. Just wondering."

"Shouldn't you be training?" Kanan snapped.

"You said I should learn to meditate through distraction. I thought you would help me practice."

"Go meditate in your own room!"

"Tooka really got to you, huh?" Ezra sympathized. Kanan's brow creased and he took new interest in the innards of the battery.

"It's okay," Ezra continued. "I twisted an ankle slipping on wet paint once. Right in front of the city ordinance. Landed on my rear and tripped up Agent Kallus. That was before you came to Lothal, of course."

"I hate tookas," Kanan muttered.

"He used me as a public example for why renegades should keep off the streets."

Kanan glanced up, his pity-party melting into concern. "What kind of example?"

"Um…." Ezra looked away, chewing his lip. "They … kinda turned the paint-droids on me." It had taken days just to drain all the grey silt from his ears. Longer before the metallic smell had faded.

The force bond shuddered with injustice. "How old were you?"

"Seven and a half." Ezra clamped the memory down and feigned nonchalance. "I'm not looking for anyone's pity, Kanan. I just wanted you to know that I understand. Humiliation… it stinks."

"Can you make any less of an understatement?" Kanan sighed and shifted his leg. "From now on we shoot the tookas first, then use the force to gain their trust."

Ezra snickered. "Kanan, I think you're on the path to the dark side."

"No, I'm eradicating a threat conjured by the Sith."

"So that means Loth-wolves are actually Jedi?"

Kanan contemplated the matter. "… No… but I believe we fight for the same cause."

"Karabast, he's as loopy as his padawan," Zeb grumbled from down the hall.

"Thank you, Zegplant!" Kanan yelled.

"What does that even mean? Chopper! What did you inject him with?"

"Zegplant?" Ezra said in confusion.

"Meds talking," Kanan answered hastily. "Don't ask."

"Oh." Ezra twiddled with his helmet, adjusting the new transmitter and squeegeeing his sleeve over the visor. The orange fabric caught on an inserted holo-disk."Kanan…?"

"Hm?"

"When Minister Tua let us go…." He shouldn't be talking about this. He should claim exhaustion and leave while his mouth was still governable.

But Kanan had to know.

"What is it?" Kanan force-tossed a screwdriver to Ezra, coaxing him to continue.

"She…." Hesitantly Ezra pulled the disk from a chink in his helmet. "She gave me this. Kanan… she knows."

"Knows about what?" Kanan fumbled around, nearly flipping himself onto the floor as he reached under his bunk for a datapad. Inserting the chip, he sorted through the files until….

"Ezra, where did you get this?"

"Minister Tua handed it to me," Era said evenly. "She said it's from Kallus' personal files."

' _Run, Skywalker.'_

"Project Casus?" Kanan frowned.

"She knows why Vader wanted me," Ezra said. "She could have turned us in. She would have been commended by Darth Vader – by the  _Emperor_  – but she risked her life and her position instead. Why would she do it, Kanan? Why initiate stricter curfews and patrols, and then let us go?"

"The records don't even match up," Kanan muttered.

"Actually, they do," Ezra said reluctantly. "There are files on both Anakin Skywalker  _and_  my parents." He inhaled raggedly, mustering his resolve. "What if it's true? Maybe I am Vader's son."

The datapad clattered.

" _What_  did you say?"

"I know you said it wasn't possible, but –"

"Not Vader. Anakin Skywalker."

Ezra sighed. "Darth Vader said he was a Jedi once. Kallus' archives confirm that Anakin Skywalker existed. He even altered my name in the Lothal records." Dully Ezra examined his reflection in the visor. "Maybe it's true; I'm not a Bridger after all. Did you….?" Ezra's voice dropped. "Did you know my father?"  _The real one._

"No." Kanan's voice was thick. "I never met Ephraim Bridger." He retrieved the datapad and slipped out the chip, and for an instant his hand trembled.

"Kanan?" Ezra said guardedly.  _You're starting to believe it too, aren't you?_

Kanan blinked and shook himself, then offered a wan smile. "Do you mind if I study this later? I'm a little tired now. Meds."

"Sure…." Retrieving the tool kit, Ezra edged to the door. He glanced back uncertainly, but Kanan had already closed his eyes.

 _This doesn't mean anything between us,_  Ezra assured himself.  _He said he doesn't care who my father is._

'"Kid, go batter Chopper," Kanan griped, and Ezra allowed himself a small, relieved grin.

Nothing had changed.

To Kanan, he was merely Ezra – padawan, klutz, trusted crewmember. It was almost as though Vader didn't exist.

"I am a Bridger," Ezra whispered to himself.

_I have to be._

* * *

As soon as the door closed, Kanan bolted upright and lunged for his com. He jammed the disk into his datapad and scrolled rapidly, names, dates, Temple records, and Imperial notes whizzing past his searching finger. Fumbling with the comlink, he adjusted it to the Fulcrum's frequency.

"Ahsoka? We need to talk..."

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Sabine's**  allergy-lingo: ""Ethra, where are da thtim-thots?" (Ezra, where are the stim-shots?)


	23. Offspring

Takes place directly after the oneshot "Stupid Tooka"

\- 10 months after  _Never Alone_

* * *

_Splice wires … cut… cross threads…twist... seal… trim…_

Wall panels were easy. Impartial. He didn't have to think while negotiating wires.

Which left plenty of other matters to occupy his mind.

_Vader. Skywalker. Vader. Skywalker. Vader…_

Kanan's hand slipped and the pliers clanged onto the floor. Cursing, he fumbled around, refusing to crawl out and make a proper search. Stretched on his back, hundreds of tiny copper strands sparking above him … Nope, he wasn't moving.

"I've got it, Kanan."

Kanan stiffened as the pliers were slid into his hand.

"You're welcome." Ezra snorted.

Sarcasm. Like his father's? Kanan nearly dropped the pliers again.

"Thanks…" He forced insouciance, ignoring the shuffle as Ezra crouched by the wall.  _Move on, Ezra. For once don't ask –_

"Is everything okay?" Ezra said.

"Fine," Kanan said in a clipped tone. Hera would box his ears for lying. The kid could probably sense it, too. "The engine alerts were flickering; Hera wants to be sure they're functioning before our next op."

"Oh. Okay." Ezra's boots scuffed. "Zeb wondered if you would repair the aft turret for him, too."

"I didn't say that!" Zeb shouted.

Ezra sniggered. He twitched edgily. Fiddled with the wirecutter.

Kanan sighed. "What's bugging you?"

"Nothing. Just… nothing. I'm bored."

"Hm. Something about the tooka incident?"

"What – no! No, it's definitely not that at all. Just … um… I'm gonna check on Sabine. I think Chopper scrubbed one of her paintings from the wall while cleaning the vents, and she's threatening to fill his thrusters with metallic purple – whatever that means. I'll just …." Orange fabric shifted and the boots scraped further back. "I'll be along, I guess."

Exasperated, Kanan tapped at his padawan's mind. Immediately he was shunned. The kid was blocking himself off again. Kanan suspected he knew why.

Vader.

Skywalker.

 _Anakin_  Skywalker.

The hero with no fear. The galaxy's savior.

The rebellion's scourge.

If the most powerful Jedi had been corrupted by the Sith, what chance was there for his offspring?

Ezra  _Skywalker_.

Son of the Sith.

Born of a dark Jedi.

Abandoning the circuits, Kanan laid his head back and wrapped himself in the force.  _How? How can I train him? What if I'm wrong? What if he does emulate Vader? The galaxy can't survive two of them!_

_If Obi-wan failed, then how can I possibly show Ezra the right path?_

He was afraid. Afraid of his own shortcomings. Afraid of the example he offered to a kid who was already drifting, fearful of his heritage.

Anakin Skywalker had been mentored by one of the most dedicated, revered Jedi of his time.

Compared to the Jedi Code, Kanan was nothing more than an enthusiast waving a lightsaber.

Anakin Skywalker had fallen. The Son of the Suns had deprived the galaxy of its light.

Ezra was the Empire's dark star. How could Kanan possibly save him?

' _Trust in the force…'_  Obi-wan's final message haunted him. How could he trust the force when  _Anakin Skywalker_  had betrayed them all?

Master Billapa. Infant younglings. Anakin's own  _son_.

If Darth Vader had deceived the elect, then Caleb Dume could do nothing.

Kanan Jarrus was only a façade with a few mind tricks.

"What am I going to do with him?" Kanan whispered to the Force. He half-expected soft glows and the comfort of Master Yoda's assurances. He wanted  _someone_  to tell him which path to take.

 _Coward,_  his mind scoffed.

The Force must have abandoned him after Raydonia. Kanan Jarrus was alone.

Sliding out of the crawl space, Kanan shoved the tools out of Hera's way and limped to his room. A flick of the lumen-globe illuminated simple, barren quarters. Uninhibited. Void of distraction. The expectations of a Jedi's life.

Heavily Kanan knelt and braced his hands on his knees, closing his eyes.  _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is…._

But there was chaos in the room. A rattle – first in Kanan's thoughts, and then audible. Clattering. Animosity and truth contending. It was….

Eyes widening, Kanan lunged to his bunk and yanked out the hidden panel. A Jedi and a Sith holocron skittered across the floor, hatred swirling against mercy. Despair clashing with faith. Spite warping compassion. Kanan swore.

 _Why didn't I get rid of that!_  He should have broken the holocron the moment he caught Ezra watching the recording. He should have crushed the dark before it could seep into the Ghost. Gripping the Sith holocron, Kanan hurled it against the wall.

The dark side mocked as the intact pyramid rolled.

 _Enough!_  Focusing on the holocron, Kanan splayed his hand and sheared his will into the corrupted center. Truth against fabrication. Mercy smothering carnage. Faith overwhelming destruction. Compassion draining enmity. The holocron shuddered and the dark side railed, slamming Kanan against his bunk.

_Alone. Failure. Last of the Jedi. Coward. The rebellion is futile. Hopeless. Shame. The padawan who ran. Liar. Pathetic –_

The voices sealed off. Panting, Kanan glanced at the open door. Ezra stood in the entrance, the bolted holocron in his hand. Breathing raggedly, the padawan clenched his hands around the pyramid.

"Ezra – !"

A scream in the force, a flash of light, and the holocron shattered. Reeling, Ezra leaned against the doorway and let the fragments slide from his hand.

"K-Kanan, what happened? I felt this – this pressure in the force, and then you were screaming.  _What was that?"_

Kanan exhaled with a shudder. "It's gone now."

Gone. The force was clear again. He could sense the good, as well as the evil.

Looking towards Ezra, Kanan knew there was reason to be afraid.

The kid was insuperable. Already he was stronger than his master. Unaware of his own capacity; pliable and indecisive as Obi-wan's apprentice; Ezra was ready for the Empire's tutelage. Power, uncertainty, fervor; he had inherited every trait of his father.

And Kanan would train him. For salvation or destruction, he would teach Ezra the ways of the Force. He had sworn to it in the Lothal Temple. He would not run.

Shaken, Kanan scooped up the battered Jedi holocron. It hummed forgotten assurances from masters long passed.

"Kanan?" Ezra's voice wavered.

' _You cannot train him_.' Vader's thoughts smote Kanan and he inhaled sharply, wondering how far the Sith lord reached.  _'His destiny belongs to me.'_

Kanan's lip curled.  _'I will train the son of Anakin Skywalker.'_

The dark side jolted. Kanan emphasized confidently,  _'A Jedi chooses his own path. I have decided mine. Ezra will determine his own fate; you have no control over him.'_

' _He is my son.'_

' _He's_ _ **my**_ _padawan.'_

' _That makes no difference.'_

"Kanan?" Ezra knelt before his master, tugging on the bond. Trust. The desperation to belong.

' _Why doesn't he ever talk to you like that?'_ Kanan goaded. The dark side spiked into his head and he grunted, cradling his temple.

' _A warning, Jedi. My patience wears thin.'_

' _And my … father's a Lasat….'_

"Kanan!" Ezra exclaimed anxiously.

"M'fine!" Kanan exhaled shallowly as the dark presence withdrew. For now. "Just a mistake. Should've dumped the holocron on some abandoned moon."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ezra accused. "I thought you were angry with me this whole time."

"Angry?" Kanan glanced up in surprise.

Ezra moodily examined his gloves, refusing to meet his eyes. Wanly Kanan smiled.

"This is because of that holodisk."

"I thought you were tired of having Sith-spawn for a padawan," Ezra mumbled. The Force rippled with Kanan's dismay.

"You thought I would judge you according to Anakin Skywalker."

"You know what happened on Mustafar," Ezra emphasized. "Why not me?"

"Because you  _try_." Kanan clapped Ezra's shoulder and squeezed. "I've focused my training on 'do or do not'. The dark side or the light. You seem to balance both; without losing yourself."

"Wait…." Ezra frowned skeptically. "You're saying the dark side isn't bad."

"I'm saying… some things can't be helped," Kanan said evasively.  _Like having a Sith lord for a father._ "We all feel anger. Hatred. The need to justify our cause. Retaliation."  _Cowardice._  "You can't run from who you are. But you can fight it – and you've never stopped."

Ezra glanced down, deciphering Kanan's implications. His mouth crooked and he slowly nodded. "I'm not a Sith. …. Does this…?" the indecision had returned. "Are you sure you want to train me? Maybe you're right – maybe it would be better if –"

"Ezra." Kanan glared his padawan into silence. "I said  _you_  can balance Yoda's teachings. I'm stuck with 'do or do not' until I become a force ghost. I'm  _training_  you; no question. You're the one who's trying to keep me out of the path of tookas. Understood?"

Indigo eyebrows rose. "Kanan, maybe Chopper's right… you shouldn't take sleeping meds."

New plan; he'd let Vader teach the kid for a year. By Emperor day the Sith would beg him to retrieve his apprentice.

"I'm kidding!" Ezra chuckled. "I … I get it, Kanan." Blue eyes wanted to rely on someone. "My past doesn't matter. I can still be a Jedi."

Doubt gnawed at his tone.

Insecurity.

He was the offspring of the Hero With No Fear.

A son ultimately followed his father's guidance.

Kanan was incapable of filling that role.


	24. Father

\- 10 months after  _Never Alone_  (Takes place a few weeks after "Offspring")

* * *

"Anyone seen the kid?"

A week after the 'unmentionable incident' (and Kanan would never befriend a tooka again), the Jedi Master was back to hobbling around the Ghost, pestering Hera's flight skills and advising finishing touches for Sabine's graffiti. Irksome, belligerent, and a pleasure to have among the crew once more.

Even if said benign crew was missing a straggly-haired padawan.

"Has anyone seen Ezra?" Kanan repeated louder.

"Nah," Sabine mumbled from the rounded couch. Flopped onto her back, with a fizzy drink and a straw, a pile of napkin wipes, and a holovid screening on her datapad, she was as close to slothful, dunderheaded Zeb as Kanan could associate.

"Nope." Zeb mimicked Sabine's posture, eyelids twitching like Ezra's when he tried to meditate.

Kanan folded his arms. "I have the idlest crew in the galaxy."

"No, I have," Hera corrected. She was squeezed between Sabine and Zeb, avoiding the Lasat's feet and the Mandalorian's still-drying bleached hair. She scowled at her datapad in concentration, but Kanan caught her glancing covertly at Sabine's holovid.

"So no one is keeping charge of my padawan. Chopper!"

"Recharging," Hera said. "Shouldn't you be resting that leg?"

"I'm  _fine_. I barely twisted it."

"You thaid dat wight before you clobbered dah wall." Sabine sniffled and batted the holochess table until she found an unused napkin wipe. Curling her nose, Hera shifted towards Zeb's feet.

Concerned, Kanan leaned over the table and pressed his hand against Sabine's forehead. She pushed him away with a garbled mumble and fussed with her wet bangs. "Mb'fine."

"You're sick."

"Mb'not thick!"

"You caught a cold," Kanan assessed.

"Th'not a cold! Theb, tell him tah go'way!"

"Eh, leave the snip alone," Zeb grumbled, crossing his hands over his chest. "The frudal flowers don't agree with her."

"You're allergic?" Kanan raised one eyebrow and handed Sabine another napkin wipe.

"Yeth! Now go'way!" Aggravatedly Sabine blew her nose, and Zeb scowled at the dry honk.

"Karabast, you'll blow out your brains and then we'll be down one Mandalorian. Just drink the tea already. Hera, order her to –"

"I am not involved in this," Hera said distractedly.

"Kanan, you then," Zeb insisted.

"Sorry. Captain Hera gives the commands on this ship." Frudal flowers and allergic reactions? He really didn't want to know.

"Theb, leab mbe in peathe," Sabine moaned, resting her datapad on her forehead.

"If you're looking for Ezra, I would try outside the ship," Hera suggested to Kanan. "He said he wanted to visit an old haunt."

Kanan nodded, understanding the implications. The Lothal Temple was within walking distance. The kid was probably exercising his techniques on the hidden entrance and had lost track of time. "I'll find him."

Hera hummed in agreement and lifted Sabine's datapad for a better view. Zeb feigned a snore.

"Bwing bach thtim-thots," Sabine implored.

Kanan tapped her forehead. "Pepper tea – Zeb's orders."

"I hade you."

"I've learned to accept it." Leaving his indolent, motley crew to lounge, Kanan skidded down the ramp and ambled to the Lothal peaks. The air was cool, with a whiff of sun-baked rock. Grass crunched under his boots. To the right, a Loth-rat scuttled into a nest of crackling twigs, its cheeks bulging with farmers' grain.

Lothal deserved tranquility.

They would defy the Empire to preserve it.

… … At least Kanan would. Apparently his padawan had seceded from the bores of life. Kanan shook his head as he approached the curled figure, envying Ezra's talent for conking out anywhere. _Wish I had your abilities._

"Hey." He bent and jostled Ezra's shoulder, snorting when the kid tucked his arm around an imaginary stuffed Loth-wolf (that Kanan swore he never knew existed). "Ez. Time to return to the Ghost."

"Five minutes, Da," Ezra mumbled, tucking his head into his arms. Something tugged and Kanan brushed away the feeling of possession. He couldn't replace the influence of Ephraim Bridger.

But he could obstruct Vader's hold on the kid's life.

' _You cannot withhold him from his true father.'_

The voice was Vader's.

Kanan shivered.

"Come on," he whispered, slipping his arms under Ezra's shoulders and knees. The kid was limp, exhausted from more than a long day.

Drained.

 _Stay out of his head, Vader!_  Kanan glared at the rising moon, where the outline of a Star Destroyer orbited thousands of miles away. He gripped his padawan tighter.  _He's_ _mine._

Cold slithered through the force. Laughing. Biding its time.

Kanan turned his back.

* * *

.

.

.

* * *

 **Translations**  for Sabine's "allergy-lingo":

"You thaid dat wight before you clobbered dah wall." (You said that right before you clobbered the wall.)

"Mb'fine." (I'm fine.)

"Mb'not thick!" (I'm not sick!)

"Th'not a cold! Theb, tell him tah go'way!" (It's not a cold! Zeb, tell him to go away!)

"Yeth! Now go'way!" (Yes! Now go away!)

"Theb, leab mbe in peathe." (Zeb, leave me in peace.)

"Bwing bach thtim-thots." (Bring back stim-shots.)

"I hade you." (I hate you.)

 


End file.
